


In the Hearts of Men

by proser132



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: (even if they don't), Anxiety, Aristotle's seven causes, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, a sunday kind of fic, ahhh at last i can use that tag, because SOME people keep running from their emotional problems, emotional parkour, or tell you other people hate you, talking to people is difficult if everyone tells you they hate you, the ostara project, what happened in '68 anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 90,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6296857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proser132/pseuds/proser132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“All actions have one or more of these seven causes: chance, nature, compulsions, habit, reason, passion and desire.”</p>
<p>By chance, the Easter Bunny met Jack Frost in the Blizzard of '68. From there, it is a domino effect, and it's surprising to all involved where the pieces fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chance

**Author's Note:**

> For rin0rourke, who (unknowingly) jumpstarted this mini-project of mine. It's been hell not talking to you about it, but I think you might like it! :)

This was unacceptable.

Aster could put up with a lot of things, for the sake of his holiday. Sweltering sun. Sheets of rain. Hell, one time, he’d had a typhoon about to hit the south coast of the States, and he’d still gone out.

He grit his teeth against the cold, to keep from chattering; it was one thing to shiver, when he had fur to hide it. It was quite another to chatter like a children’s toy.

‘The bloody hell is going on?’ he muttered, staring around him; snow was flying thick, whipped into a frenzy by wild winds. If he’d been up north, he could have made the excuse that it was just a wild winter.

This was absolutely unacceptable for mid-April in _Georgia._

He heard the faint sound of - a human voice. Not a child’s - thank the stars, he prayed he wouldn’t find any kids in this snow, not until it had calmed - but a bit young, even still.

It was swearing creatively, though.

Aster followed the sound, biting his lip (in the back of his head rang the perpetual alarm of _EASTER IS HERE HIDE THE EGGS RUN TO THE NEXT STOP EASTER IS HERE HIDE THE_ but he did his best to ignore it.)

‘Hello!’ he shouted as he neared. There was a strong chance that they couldn’t hear him - either because of the wind, shrieking and howling, or because they didn’t believe - but he had to _try._

‘Who the _fuck_ is out in this right now?!’ the voice replied, sounding furious. ‘Great, great, another one - who the fuck -’

Aster had trouble making out the bloke who came into view, the snow blinding him to anything more than five feet out. If it hadn’t been for his dark blue shirt, he might not have seen him at all. He was visibly a teenager - somewhere in his late teens - but his eyes landed firmly on Aster. _A believer at this age?_ Aster wondered, but it couldn’t be, because the kid swore again upon seeing him.

‘Seriously? Fuck, it’s that late - fuck, fuck, fuck -’ The kid’s eyes flashed bright blue, glowing in the thick snow. Ah. Not human, then. Some kind of sprite.

‘Is this all ye?’ Aster asked neutrally, trying to keep his temper as the wind shrieked and his internal panic shrieked louder; the only thing helping him was his bewilderment. What the hell kind of winter sprite could do this much damage on his own?

‘Definitely not,’ the kid snapped. ‘Do you see this? This is _GEORGIA._ Why the fuck would I make it snow in Georgia? It’s _April._ It’s _Easter._ Not that I have to tell _you_ that.’

…Well, that was a surprise. And a relief. Aster shivered in the wind again, and frustratedly bit out, ‘Then what the bleeding hell is going on?’

The kid had a double-take. ‘Uh. Okay. You swear. Did not expect that.’ He visibly shook himself. ‘As far as I can tell, some kind of prank? Not mine. A+ for effort, but D- for timing, at best, seriously, these guys need some kind of training because this is just embarrassing, and now _I’ve_ got to explain to the goddamn Easter Bunny that his holiday is screwed over, which is like asking -’

‘Slow down,’ Aster interrupted, bewildered. Stars and suns, this kid could talk. ‘A prank?’ He grit his teeth as another gust of wind slammed into him, and shivered harder.

‘Yeah, isn’t it groovy?’ the kid said, voice acidic; Aster bristled. ‘Look, I’ll take care of it, promise, but there’s this kid -’

Aster flinched. ‘There’s a tinlid out? In this?’

‘Yeah, have you seen her? Where is she?’

The kid was staring at him, blue eyes wide with hope, so strong Aster could feel it from here. ‘I haven’t,’ Aster replied, and the hope died back a little; he flinched and added hastily, trying to silence the screaming of _EASTER EASTER EASTER_ in his head, ‘What does she look like? Where’d ye see her last?’

‘You’re going to - of course you are,’ the kid said, shaking his head. ‘Why am I even surprised - Guardian - sorry, right, uh, she’s got a blue windbreaker on with yellow flowers, she’s about this tall -’ he held a pale hand up to his waist, ‘and I heard her mom call her Patty -’

‘Ye don’t know her?’ Aster asked; he’d thought from the kid’s concern that it had to be a friend of his.

The kid’s face twisted. ‘She can’t, uh - we don’t have time,’ he said. ‘You look for her, okay, I’ll try to handle the storm.’

The kid waved impishly and the wind that had been battering Aster all along picked him up, gentle as could be. Not just a sprite, then. Something more powerful.

‘Just get her somewhere safe,’ the kid said, scowling up at the sky. ‘Then - you know, go do the Easter thing. Don’t call me, I’ll call you,’ the kid added with a grin, white as the snow, and then _rocketed_ up.

Aster stared for a second, then cocked his ears left and right, listening as hard as he could. The snow muffled everything, but now that he knew what he was listening for ( _young girl, probably seven or so, lost and scared_ ), it was an easier task.

‘Patty?’ He called, voice cutting through the snow, and - there, a rustling twenty yards to his left.

He felt the child’s hope flair up at hearing her own name, and a thin, high voice called back, ‘Here! I’m ov’r here!’

He darted in that direction, nearly running into a tree as he went - blasted snow, blasted _winter sprites who had no sense of timing_ \- and quickly found her, huddled beneath some bushes. She was shivering hard, her little body thin and dark against the storm, hair done in neat rows of braids.

‘Patty?’ he repeated, and she looked up.

Her brown eyes went wide, the white of her eyes stark against her dark, dark skin, and she scrambled to her feet. ‘Oh, my gosh,’ she said, staring at him. ‘The Easter Bunny?’

‘The one and only,’ Aster said, smiling and crouching beside her, blocking some of the wind. ‘Heard ye got a little lost.’

‘You’re real - you’re real!’ She exclaimed, reaching out her hands to his, burying her chill fingers in his fur. ‘I told Andrew you were real, I _told_ him, oh, I’m going to kick his _butt_ for this!’

‘Is that why ye were out here?’ Aster asked, picking her up easily; she clung to the ruff of fur around his shoulders, starry-eyed. ‘Ye were looking for me? It’s a few hours still to go, ye know.’

‘I know,’ she said, dropping her gaze. ‘But he said you weren’t real, and it made me mad. I was going to prove it. Then - it started snowing, like it does up by Grandpapa, and I couldn’t see - I was going to hold still, so Mama could find me.’‘Ye did good,’ he said, turning back the way he came (he hoped). ‘Let’s get ye home to yer dam, and later, I’ll leave ye an extra goog, yeah?’

The girl nodded, smiling again, and then there was a great _whoosh_ of air. She shrieked, surprised, and Aster held her tight as she flailed; she buried her head in his fur, but he looked straight up, agape.

The snow was lifting. Stopping. Above him, faster than it should, the sky was clearing, still thick with stars, and there was a faint, cool blue glow high in the air.

_He didn’t. A whole blizzard? On his own?_

The blue glow descended abruptly, erratically, like it was being jerked around. Aster reacted without thinking; he dove forward, Patty held tightly to himself as she shrieked in excitement.

The light - the kid from before, Aster could see him clearly now - landed sloppily in the snow, tripping to his knees and catching himself on his staff. Aster arrived a split second later, concern beating a tattoo over his heart.

‘Are ye alright?’ he demanded.

The kid looked up and over, startled, but before he could respond, Patty asked from her squashed position, ‘Who are you talking to?’

Aster looked down at the little girl, then back at the kid, whose face was wide and fearful and so damn pained. ‘A friend,’ he said to Patty. ‘He’ll help us get ye home, alright?’

Patty looked very sceptical, but nodded slowly. Aster looked back at the kid, who somehow looked more panicked. ‘Can ye show me the way to the tyke’s house? Her dam has to be worried half to death.’

‘Uh - yeah, I can, uh, do that,’ the kid said, stumbling over the words in the same way he stumbled to his feet. ‘I’m fine,’ he said to Aster’s look. ‘It’s just a - a lot to hold back, hold on.’

The kid looked up to the stars and then turned to his left. ‘This way,’ he said, ‘Like half a mile? Her mom was looking for her, but had to go in because of the storm. I’ll let you, uh, do that.’

‘Wait here,’ Aster commanded, hoping the skittish kid would listen, and hitched Patty up and onto his back. ‘Hold on,’ he told her, and she nodded, looking from him to different points in the snowy clearing, as if trying to figure out where the kid was.

Aster loped over in the direction the kid had indicated, until he came to a rundown neighbourhood. He paused just outside the line of houses, each house lit up, and knelt, letting Patty jump down to the ground.

‘Ye know which house is yours?’

‘Yeah, that one,’ Patty nodded. She paused, then darted forward, throwing her arms around his shoulders in an inexpert but tight hug. Aster hugged her back, wrapping himself around her little body, giving over some of the spring warmth that was always present in his bones. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘For getting me back. And - thank your friend, okay? Even if I can’t see him, doesn’t mean he’s not real, right?’ she said, leaning back. ‘Like, maybe Andrew can’t see you, but you’re still real.’

‘Right on the nose,’ he said, and poked hers; she wrinkled her nose goodnaturedly. ‘Now, get on home. Yer dam’s gotta be worried, and I’ve got to hide the eggs so ye can find them later, yeah?’

‘Okay,’ she said, and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you, Mr. Easter Bunny!’

‘Go on,’ he laughed, sending her off, and she went, a dark streak up to the house across the street. Aster waited until he heard a high, female shriek of surprise and relief, and then turned around.

He bounded back to the clearing, and arrived just in time to see the kid start to make his way out of the clearing.

‘Thought I told ye to wait,’ he said mildly, and the kid yelped, almost tripping over himself as he turned around.

‘You came back,’ the kid said, looking stunned, and Aster flicked his ears.

‘Course I did,’ he said, stepping nearer; the boy backed up a bit, a natural instinct, and Aster paused. ‘I don’t blame ye for what happened,’ he said firmly.

The kid relaxed all at once, slumping over on his staff. ‘Oh, thank god,’ he breathed. ‘Seriously, you look like you could kick my ass twice over, you have no idea what a relief that is -’

‘I’m not so sure, mate,’ Aster said thoughtlessly. ‘Ye just banished a blizzard, who knows how big, ye might - er.’ He coughed, looked to the side so that he didn’t have to look at the way the kid stared at him.

‘Up the whole coast,’ the kid said, looking a little dazed when Aster glanced back over. ‘From Florida up to Maine. Maine’s going to be buried, sorry.’

‘Not yer fault,’ Aster said awkwardly, and they were silent a moment. ‘Why couldn’t she see ye?’ Aster asked, desperate to break the silence.

The kid froze.

‘Um. No one can,’ the kid said, looking like the words hurt to say. ‘They walk through me, and everyone else who can see me is - well, like us. And they don’t like me very much.’

Aster frowned. ‘I’m sorry,’ he offered, a little helplessly. Then, as if it had been waiting for a vulnerable moment, his internal Easter siren shrieked to life, and he flinched. ‘Oh, shite, I’ve got to - ugh, and in all this _snow_ -’

The kid flinched. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and Aster shook his head vehemently.

‘No, it’s not yer fault,’ he said, and smiled at the kid. ‘What’s yer name?’

The kid blinked. ‘Jack - Jack Frost.’

Aster nodded. ‘Nice to meet ye, Jack,’ he said. ‘I’ll see ye around - stop by Australia some time, I owe ye a ‘thank ye’ chocky.’

The kid’s eyes were wide, stunned. ‘Uh - yeah. Okay, yeah, I can try that,’ he said, weak in the voice.

Aster nodded and dropped back into one of his tunnels, the googs below ready to be hidden, and hoped he wouldn’t regret inviting a winter sprite to his home - the home he’d not let anyone see in centuries.

_He saved me holiday,_ Aster thought, herding the googs along and directing a few more towards Patty’s neighbourhood. _He deserves that, at least._

 

Above, on the surface, Jack had no idea whether he should laugh or - well, he would just have to laugh, was all.

_He talked to me - he didn’t hate me - he didn’t_ blame _me -_ all on loop in his head, and there was a giddy lightness in him. The Easter Bunny saved the little girl, even though he had to be busy out of his skull, and he’d not ripped Jack a new one for something that wasn’t his fault. Jack didn’t have a lot of experience with that, since it seemed like it was winter’s favourite game to blame him for everything, even when he really _hadn’t_ done it -

The blizzard and its sprite creators bucked against his control, trying to bring the storm back. Prank, his ass. It was a trap, clear as day, though whether it was for the kids that some winter sprites found tasty or for - wow, that was a dumb idea, if true.

Jack bared his teeth at the sky, towards the ever-silent Moon and the hiding sprites. ‘Not today,’ he muttered, and held out his arms. ‘Wind, take me north. Let’s see if we can’t clear the way a little!’

The Wind answered, cheerful shrieking as always, and Jack laughed with her.

If some ice hit the ground in his wake, they were tiny droplets, no more.


	2. Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this won't be updated next week, as part three is significantly longer than it has a right to be (frankly, it's long enough to be its own, separate story, but I won't do that to you). Schedule willing, Compulsion will be posted a week from next Sunday. Thank you for your patience!

Jack held off the Blizzard of ‘68, and then disappeared.

He didn’t  _ plan  _ it that way; he just… it was a lot to deal with. He’d been alone for so long, isolated even from the people who  _ could _ see him, that it felt like being punched in the face, having been shown some kindness. It felt awful, which was weird, and Jack being Jack, he had to take some time to process it.

He spent two winters in Asia, just trying to puzzle it out. Then ‘70 rolled around, and he had to stop another blizzard attempt in the States, which annoyed the hell out of him; for one, somehow ‘68 had gotten blamed on him, anyway. For two, the fight he’d gotten in over the blizzard attempt had been brutal, but irritatingly necessary. The winter sprites that had followed the European settlers over to America were considerably more wary around him now, and he didn’t bother the native spirits - they’d had nothing to do with it, and he valued his skin, thanks.

Sometimes, Jack wondered why he wasn’t like the other European spirits - he had to be one, because he certainly wasn’t one of the native spirits. They treated him like the interloper he was. He didn’t blame them. He didn’t belong there, the way they did; his first memories were of his lake, but that didn’t mean the lake had belonged to  _ him _ first.

They treated him much more nicely than the other European spirits, since even now they had this awful idea that because they’d come over and conquered that the land was theirs. Jack didn’t think the land was his. Nothing was his, that was Jack Frost; always on the wind, always with the snow, always in the way or out of place. That was okay. It had always been that way. The native spirits were nice enough, in their way, but they were distant.

They hadn’t helped with the fight, even though Jack broke his right collarbone and his left arm, but they hadn’t helped the sprites, so Jack would take it.

But the European spirits  _ hated _ him - he was too nice, they’d taunt, too soft. Playing games in the snow with kids was for children. And children were for  _ eating. _

Jack tried to not hate things. He made an exception for European winter sprites.

Especially when they tried to fuck with Easter for the second time. ‘70 was when he admitted to himself that he should probably take the Easter Bunny up on that two year old invitation; it was too coincidental, in his opinion. Twice attacking at the same time of year, twice around kids - sure, maybe a lot of the Guardians were sort of standoffish, but if there was even a chance that the sprites were trying to target large numbers of children, Jack felt kind of responsible. It wasn’t  _ him _ who was a child-eater, but he’d be damned if he just let it happen. People who looked away when bad things happened could be just as culpable as the people who did the bad things, in his opinion.

He waited until late summer, when the guy would  _ probably _ have some free time, before heading south (Jack would be the first to admit that he had no idea what the Guardians did with their spare time, but hell, Easter was successfully past, and if he was busy, Jack could just try again, right?) He’d never bothered going to Australia - wasn’t a lot of snow. He’d stopped by New Zealand once, though, and that had been a pretty neat place. He swept by and dusted the mountaintops for old times’ sake.

Of course, once he hit the actual continent, he realised he had no idea where he was even supposed to look. After all, he’d only known to get this far because the Easter Bunny had told him so. He’d not even known the guy was from around here.

He took his time exploring a bit, at least. Ayers Rock was cool (he liked the sound of its original name better, though. It was more fun to say). There was coral in the ocean and thousands of miles of brush, swamps and rivers and…

Well, he was enjoying himself. It was kind of a lonely place, if you weren’t near the cities, and cooler than he’d thought it would be for August. Though maybe that was due to being south of the equator? South America had been colder in the summer months the few times he’d ventured that south, now that he thought about it. He thought maybe he could see why people liked it so much.

There were a fair number of European spirits here (though not any winter ones), and it sort of annoyed Jack. He didn’t try to talk to them; he could see the way they acted, and it was just like the European spirits in North America. They thought they owned the place.

Jack wanted to shout, to say that no one owned anything, but since he was just as alien here as he was in North America, he stayed away. Seemed safer.

He found a pond he liked - he liked ponds, he wasn’t sure why - and spent two days there. It was September, now, and he thought of the pond he hung around back home, the way he’d start frosting the grass around its edges by now. Idly, he dipped the end of his staff into the water, sending brief curls of ice over the surface that melted almost before they were done forming.

‘Oi, what are ye - oh!’

Jack started, surprised to hear a voice, and spun around. Behind him, looking as surprised as he felt, was the Easter Bunny, just as tall and grey and furred as he remembered. Which, uh, of course he was - two years wasn’t very long at all in the lifespan of a spirit. Jack felt like an idiot.

‘Wondered when ye would show up,’ the Easter Bunny said, relaxing a little. ‘Though I’d appreciate if ye didn’t go around icing things over - spring’s just about here, ye know.’

‘Sorry, I -’ Jack said, horribly awkward. He hadn’t known - but then, he guessed it was pretty rude. ‘Sorry.’

‘I’m not mad,’ the Easter Bunny said, ears flicking up and around. ‘Strewth, ye look about ready to bolt. Calm yerself, yeah?’

Jack felt himself go red, horribly warm in the face.’ Uh, yeah,’ he said, looking away. Great. Way to look like a goddamn moron.

‘Thought ye’d either show up earlier,’ the Easter Bunny said, ‘or never. Ye finally came for me chocky, I see.’

He sounded so self-satisfied that Jack couldn’t help his snort. ‘Actually,’ he said, looking back (ha, the guy looked  _ offended,  _ if he was as high-strung as Jack was starting to suspect he was, this was going to be  _ fun. _ ) ‘I was here to talk to you. But, I mean, if you’re offering free food, I’m not going to turn you down.’

The Easter Bunny blinked at him, visibly torn between his imagined slight or sinking back into satisfaction. Oh, yeah, Jack was going to have fun with this guy.

‘But, first,’ Jack said, grinning widely at the Easter Bunny’s confusion, ‘You never actually gave me your name? Unless it’s actually Easter Bunny. In which case, I’m going to have to call you something else. No way I’m saying that all day.’

The Easter Bunny puffed up. ‘Of course it’s not, ye dero,’ he said with utmost dignity. ‘E. Aster Bunnymund. Pleased to meet ye.’

Jack waited a second. Two. The Easter Bunny began to deflate a little. ‘So your name is  _ literally  _ Easter Bunny,’ Jack said, drawing out the words, not bothering to hide his delight. ‘Oh my god, that’s amazing.’

‘It was me name long before the holiday got it,’ E. Aster Bunnymund huffed, ears twitching in what had to be annoyance.

‘Yeah, maybe, but it’s also  _ longer than Easter Bunny, _ ’ Jack pointed out pleasantly. ‘So, I’m just going to call you Bunny, okay?’

Bunny, thus named, rolled his eyes. ‘Ye might as well, it’s what everyone else calls me.’

Jack frowned, and resolved to come up with as many annoying versions of Bunny as he could. He’d been hoping for a splutter, at least.

‘What’d ye need to talk to me about?’ Bunny asked, getting over himself, eyeing Jack speculatively; there was a harder gleam to his eyes now, all business, and Jack’s spine straightened under it without his permission.

‘Did you know there was almost another blizzard this year?’ Jack asked, watching Bunny’s face for a response. His brows came down, his eyes narrowed, and his ears began to slowly tick down flat. ‘I took care of it,’ Jack said, waving a hand carelessly (it had been easier, a second time), ‘but it was the same time of year, same area. All up and down the east coast.’

‘Blizzards happen,’ Bunny said mildly, but his mouth was tight. Good, he was taking it seriously; something that had been tense in Jack for months now went lax. ‘We shouldn’t talk about this in the open,’ he said, and tapped his foot on the red-brown earth; a tunnel opened to his side. ‘Are ye alright with small spaces?’ he asked suddenly, looking at Jack with narrowed eyes. ‘Ye fly.’

Jack shrugged, though something had gone a little funny in his stomach when he thought of the earth closing above him, the dark span of tunnels beneath the earth. ‘I should be okay,’ he said, and flashed a grin that was more steady than he felt. ‘I promise not to frost everything over if it’s over in five minutes.’

Bunny nodded, still watching him. ‘Alright, in ye get,’ he said gruffly, and Jack tried to walk more confidently than he ever had, to jump down into the dark and not panic.

Only, it wasn’t dark.

Jack landed in a crouch, unsure of if he’d only dropped ten feet or if there had been some kind of magic involved and he was much deeper in the earth, but all thoughts of how it worked were gone from him once he got a good look around him.

Everywhere was moss and thriving plants, soft beneath his feet and climbing the walls, and sunlight ( _ How is there sunlight beneath the ground?  _ he thought with awe) broke through from unseen places to shine warmly on flowers and stones.

Bunny dropped down beside him and gave him a strange look. ‘Ye sure ye’re alright?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Jack replied, a little too quickly and a little too breathless. Bunny kept looking at him. ‘It doesn’t look like how I thought it would,’ Jack added, hoping to try and make it make sense.

Bunny’s face did a weird thing where it softened a bit, and he shrugged, clearly no longer concerned. ‘If ye say so,’ he said, and jerked his thumb to his right, towards more of the sunlight. ‘Follow me.’

He took off, transitioning smoothly from a two-legged balance to a four-legged sprint, and Jack followed, the Wind supporting him a bit and letting him keep up. That earned Jack another glance, and though Jack was a little confused as to how the Wind was blowing below the earth, he just shrugged back; he sure as hell didn’t have an answer.

After about three minutes, they broke into the greenest place Jack had ever seen in his life. He had to work to keep his jaw closed, and managed, he thought, to stay collected when Bunny said with a sweep of a paw, ‘This is the Warren.’

‘Cool,’ Jack said, trying to keep his eyes in his head, instead of letting them dart around and stare at everything at once. ‘I like it,’ he said, after a moment, and then wondered if he’d imagined the tiny relaxing of Bunny’s ears.

‘So - a blizzard, ye say?’ Bunny prompted, taking a seat on one of the various boulders about. Jack perched on the one beside it, his staff dangling from his fingers.

‘Yeah,’ Jack nodded. ‘And I couldn’t find the sprites who did it last time, but I sniffed them out this time.’ He wondered for a moment if Bunny would believe him - he knew ‘68 hadn’t been him, but the only other person who would tell the truth hadn’t said a word. And it was everywhere - Jack Frost had ruined Easter. He wondered why Bunny hadn’t said anything, when he’d seemed to believe Jack when they’d first met.

Or maybe he hadn’t believed him in the first place. That could explain it. Jack didn’t bother being mad about it; he got blamed no matter what happened. So long as Bunny believed him  _ this  _ time, he didn’t care.

‘Ye did?’ Bunny looked over at him, and Jack was relieved to see that he at least looked sincere. ‘How’d that go?’

‘A broken collarbone and left arm, but I don’t think they’ll try again for a while,’ Jack shrugged. ‘I’ll keep an eye out, though.’

Bunny stared at him.

‘What?’

‘Are ye alright? Should ye be moving around?’

Jack stared back. ‘Uh, yeah? I’m fine, why?’

Jack had no idea what was going on, but Bunny was looking steadily more alarmed. ‘Ye’re  _ fine _ ,’ Bunny repeated. ‘Are ye sure? A clavicle fracture isn’t a small thing, mate. Is yer shoulder still sore?’

‘It was fine after a few weeks,’ Jack said, thinking he’d figured it out. ‘I heal fast, it’s good.’

‘Did anyone set it?’ Bunny demanded, increasingly agitated. ‘Did anyone even look at them?’

Jack was back to square one. ‘Uh, no? I set it. It’s fine, seriously, you’re weirding me out.’

Bunny was starting to look angry. ‘Ye set it  _ yerself?  _ Are ye mad? What if ye set it wrong -  _ how’d _ ye set them, if yer arm was broken, too -’

‘It’s not that hard, it was a clean break, and the arm was only, like, a crack,’ Jack protested. ‘What’s wrong? It’s not that big a deal.’

‘Yes, it  _ is! _ ’ Bunny snapped, then paused, seemingly trying to control himself. ‘Look, Jack,’ he said, flatly, eyes closed and ears tight to his head. ‘Next time ye get in a scrape that bad, knock three times on the ground. Ye could have gotten killed.’

Jack shrugged. ‘Yeah, that happens to people,’ he said. ‘Not sure what knocking on the ground’s going to do, Cottontail.’

An ear twitch. Good, that name was a keeper.

‘It’ll let me know where ye are,’ Bunny bit out, visibly warring with his irritation. ‘I owe ye one. If ye’re hurt, let me know.’

Jack froze.

‘...what?’ he said after a long moment.

‘I said I owe ye one,’ Bunny repeated, irritation winning out in the way his ears twitched and his eyes narrowed.

‘Yeah - but,’ Jack stuttered, trying to make sense of this, ‘ _ why? _ ’

‘Because ye saved me holiday,’ Bunny said, looking away again. ‘And - did ye even  _ try _ to go to anyone else, ye raging hoon? Or did ye think it’d be a lark, setting yer own bones?’

Jack flinched. ‘There, uh, isn’t anyone to go to,’ he admitted, staring down at his lap and wishing he could make that sound less pathetic. ‘I’m not really friends with anyone. So. Uh.’

Also, the whole gratitude thing was new, but Jack wasn’t going to say that. Sure, it wasn’t an out and out  _ thank you _ , but it was more important than two words, anyway.

There was silence, and Jack didn’t dare look over, sure that Bunny had to be feeling just as awkward as Jack.

‘...ah. Sorry.’

‘Not your problem, don’t worry about it,’ Jack said with a shrug, still not looking. ‘Anyway, more importantly, blizzard. Attempted blizzard. Child endangerment. Seemed like the kind of thing a Guardian should know about. But, uh, I’ve got it handled, so I’m kind of wasting your time, telling you about something that didn’t happen in the first place, and -’

‘Ye could talk the ears off a cockie, ye could,’ Bunny said, cutting through. ‘Look - I, er, know it doesn’t mean much, but ye can try to relax? I’m not going to throw ye out on yer ear. Most spirits wouldn’t say a thing, ye know. Especially winter spirits, since they tend to be a nasty lot, anyway.’

It was true, Jack thought so himself, but he couldn’t stop the tiny flinch. He was a winter spirit, too. And not one currently well-liked in the world.

Bunny sighed. ‘Sorry, s’rude of me to say,’ he said. Jack’s hands twisted around and around his staff, palms following familiar whorls and ridges in the wood like it was another hand’s fingerprints. He hated this. He should have just -  left a note, maybe. ‘I’m not good at talking to people.’

Jack looked up at that, startled, to see Bunny watching him sheepishly.

‘That makes no sense,’ he said slowly. ‘You’re the  _ Easter Bunny, _ kids love you.’

Bunny rolled his eyes. ‘Being good with kids is a little different from being good with other people,’ he said. ‘Not that kids aren’t people, mind ye, but they’re a lot more forgiving.’ Bunny frowned. ‘That’s a lie. They’re a lot harsher, but that helps. Kids are a mess, all over the place in what they do. Makes ‘em more…’

‘Predictable,’ Jack agreed. Kids couldn’t see him, had no idea he was there, but he’d played with them in his own invisible way for centuries, now. He knew kids like he knew his own heartbeat. ‘It’s everyone else who doesn’t make sense.’

‘Exactly,’ Bunny hummed, looking relieved. ‘If ye never know what a kid’s going to do, ye’re ready for most anything. Everyone else has set ways they work, and an awful habit of not keeping to them at the exact wrong moment.’

Jack nodded. ‘So, uh,’ he said after a long, weirdly companionable silence that made his skin crawl, ‘How do I get out of here? Not that this place isn’t cool, but - message delivered, and all that. I should be getting -’  _ can’t say home, it’s not my home, I don’t have one  _ ‘- back.’

‘Right, sorry,’ Bunny said, hopping (ha) back down to the ground. Jack leapt down to the space beside him. ‘Follow me, I’ll get ye back to the surface.’

They only spent a few seconds in the tunnels before Bunny opened a passage to the world above. ‘I was serious, before,’ he said flatly, looking at Jack, ears tilted forwards. ‘If ye’re in trouble, give the earth three knocks, I’ll be there soon as I can.’

‘You got it, Bun-bun,’ Jack said, and grinned at the scowl  _ that  _ got.

‘It’s Bunny, ye dero.’

‘It’s hilarious, is what it is,’ Jack replied, then paused. ‘I’ll, uh, let you know if it happens again. The blizzard thing, I mean.’

‘Ye do that,’ Bunny nodded, and snapped his fingers ( _ were they still fingers if they were on a paw? _ Jack wondered). ‘Ah, before I forget!’

He fished something out from one of the pockets on the belt he wore slung over his shoulders, and tossed it to Jack, who caught it fumblingly. ‘I’m very good at guessing people’s favourite,’ he said with a smile. ‘Ye’ll have to let me know.’

‘Uh, yeah,’ Jack said, surprised. He had forgotten entirely about the chocolate thing. When’d he even get that? Or was it some kind of magic pocket thing? Jack was pretty sure he didn’t want to know, actually. ‘So - well. Thanks.’

Then he couldn’t take it any longer, and let the Wind sweep him up, back into the sky that wasn’t his, but where he belonged.

Later, floating over the Pacific, drifting east, he bit into the egg-shaped chocolate nervously. It was a rich, dark chocolate, thicker-shelled than he’d thought it would be, and filled with some kind of whipped centre. It was coconut, he thought with surprise, but not that weird grainy textured stuff, and with the faintest touch of peppermint.

It was good, but it wasn’t his favourite. Grinning a little to himself at the thought of the furious frown  _ that _ would produce, he resolved to tell the oversized rabbit - it’d be a laugh. Maybe he’d never like Jack, or believe him fully (Jack didn’t blame him), but Jack was pretty sure that he could make himself useful, and that was more important, anyway.

Jack relaxed into the Wind’s hold, and let himself grin.

 

Aster waited until the kid was long gone before closing the tunnel, and promptly slumped down a bit, taking a deep breath.

Suns and stars, that had taken more out of him than he’d thought it would. The past two years had gone by with no word of a Jack Frost, save for a spiteful little whisper once or twice, and for a moment he’d entertained the notion that the boy had disappeared entirely. Sometimes, it happened; winter spirits got into fights all the time. By year count, they could be some of the shortest lived spirits of them all.

Then he’d recalled how the bloke had dispelled a blizzard that had covered most of the roughly-half-a-million square clicks of the States’ east coast, and dismissed the thought entirely. No way the kid had just - died off, not if he was kicking around that much power.

Still, he’d been more relieved than he’d thought he’d be when he realised the stranger poking around the GAFA was the kid - was Jack, he corrected in his head. Who knew how old he really was.

Then the news Jack had come to bring him, and then  _ letting a person into his Warren.  _ He’d had to - news like that wasn’t for just anyone to hear - but even though he’d been preparing himself two years now to let someone inside - 

Another deep breath. It was good. It was over. And he could probably handle it again. Not for very long, maybe, but over time…?

‘He won’t be back,’ he said aloud to himself, voice hushed as though Jack could hear him. ‘He was about ready to dig his way out.’

He ignored the part of his brain that wanted to remind him of the awed way Jack had looked around, the quiet hunching into himself when Aster offered to help him, the surprise on his face when Aster’d given him the chocky (he’d made the flavour last year, and carried one on him most days, just in case).

Aster stood alone in his Warren, relieved, but also disquieted.


	3. Compulsion I: Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhhh my god it has been hell wrestling with this, but i think it turned out okay. I think now is an important time to remind everyone that I have a longstanding love affair with the 'unreliable narrator' thing. Just because a character thinks something or 'knows' something does not make it true (or necessarily guarantee it's false), and the same goes for their perceptions of other characters. All will be addressed, and with luck all will be resolved.
> 
> alright enough of my earbashing, y'all have been so patient

Aster froze, every hair on his body holding still, egg in hand and paintbrush dripping.

He’d set up the ward himself, he knew exactly what he’d heard, but for a moment, a selfish span of seconds, he pretended he could have imagined it.

It had been decades since ‘70, and he’d seen the strange Jack Frost only twice in the years that passed, both times to uncomfortably alert him there had been another attempted Easter Blizzard, and flee as soon as he could get away with it. Which was - strangely frustrating. Both times, Aster had to bite back words along the lines of ‘Ye don’t  _ have _ to go,’ which. Hrm. He was not dealing with (he wasn’t  _ lonely _ , he didn’t need a  _ friend,  _ especially not one who seemed to dislike being near him so much that each visit was at its greatest length a quarter of an hour. He had friends. Of course he did).

Also, the bloke’s steadfast refusal to declare any of Aster’s chocky his favourite was annoying. Twice, now, his offering had been rejected as, and he quoted, ‘Pretty good, Bun-bun, but not my favourite’, which was -  _ ugh,  _ this was  _ embarrassing,  _ he was the Easter Bunny! The whipped coconut was a no. The raspberry mint with a tiny touch of capsacin? No. He hadn’t heard yet on the Dead Sea salt-caramel with a white chocky ribbon, but he was pretty sure that was a no, too. Even North had been easy, and he’d been about ready to job him at that moment. It was frustrating.

And the most fun he’d had in ages. Not that he was admitting that (not even to himself).

But even with the warnings of the Easter Blizzards (and, Aster suspected, a matching number of scrape-ups, judging from the faint blue bruise he remembered on the bloke’s cheek), this ward had never rung. He’d never felt the bone deep hammering,  _ one two three,  _ of a hand not his own against the earth.

He’d let himself blissfully believe it might never ring, and that even if the bloke didn’t seem to like him much, that debt owed might hang over them forever. Aster didn’t mind debts, so long as he knew he could pay them off someday; whether or not it gave him a tie to the other, whether it guaranteed at least one final interaction before Jack could scarper off for good, was a thought best ignored. Especially since that was the most selfish thought of all, and really, he hadn’t been looking  _ forward  _ to Jack getting hurt, he was looking forward to… Ah, it didn’t matter. It was ridiculous.

That sobered him quickly. Jack would be  _ hurt,  _ and badly, if he’d finally called on that favour. He didn’t have the seconds to spare, not with Easter three days away, not with so little time.

He turned, setting the egg gently on the ground to pick up later, and began to head for the North American tunnel (where the ward had echoed most strongly). To his horror, another ward began to shrill before he managed more than a step.

‘Crikey,’ he breathed, the sound of the aurora singing in his ears. North had activated the alarm. Something was wrong, drastically so. He had to get to the North Pole,  _ now  _ \- ‘Shite.’

_ Jack _ .

For a moment, he was torn. This debt he owed, and his duty.

On the one paw - North wouldn’t pull that alarm for nothing, not this close to Easter. Aster was honourbound, down to his blood and his bones, to answer that call. This planet, for all its strangeness sometimes, was where Tsar Lunar intended to foster the new Golden Age, and Aster knew they were sometimes the only thing standing between that ideal and the light of advancement being snuffed out forever. It was easy to lose himself in the small business of year-to-year living, and to forget that, especially when there’d been no external threat in so long.

On the other - he  _ owed _ it to Jack. More than that, he’d made a promise. And on four separate occasions now, for no reason that Aster could discern, Jack had defended Easter from meddling, and defended all of Aster’s believers. He didn’t know much about how the bloke spent his year, but from the things he said sometimes, Aster thought there was something of a kindred spirit in him: had he not been looking for a child in the blizzard, when first they met? A child who couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, and he’d still done his best to save her.

Aster grit his teeth. Either way, he’d be betraying something deep inside himself.

‘Starlight and darkshine, this is why I didn’t want to get involved,’ he muttered to himself, knowing the lament was as useless as the protests he’d made in the beginning. ‘North better not rip off me head for this one.’

He silenced the aurora ward with a flick of his fingers, took a deep breath, and shot towards the North American tunnel.

The tunnels were a work of art, engineering and magic so closely layered that sometimes Aster marvelled it had been his own paws that had made them. It was less narcissism and more stunned disbelief; he tried not to notice it, most days. It had been a different person, all those aeons ago, who had built them. He didn’t always like to remember being that person.

He had no eyes for his tunnels today, no attention to spare; every ounce of his focus was on pinpointing the location of the last of the echoes, still reverberating off his bones. 

Twenty minutes passed, then another twenty. He was under the continent now, racing north and east, wishing Jack would just knock again, renew the sound, but it was silent. Dread was building in his joints and in his ears, and he feared it would drown out what little sound was left.

Quebec, he could tell, in the north; but there was a  _ lot _ of Quebec, and though he could tell it was somewhere along the Bay’s shoreline, the echo was too faded to tell him more.

He popped up in the middle of a biting wind, and cursed; it was cold, but not as bad as it would be at the Pole.

‘Jack!’ he called, on the off-chance he’d arrived near enough to be heard. Nothing but the whistling wind answered him.

He began to make his way north, following the curve of the bay. He called Jack’s name intermittently as he went, his dread growing.

Finally,  _ finally _ , when he was almost at the Arctic circle, he heard an answer.

‘Bunny?’

Aster almost tripped, the weak question only just loud enough for him to hear over the wind. ‘Jack!’ he called again. It had been an hour and a half since the knocking. He thought he smelled blood.

‘Over here,’ Jack’s voice called, sounding exhausted, and Aster followed it to a shallow overhang, a hill eroded into something of a shelter.

‘Hey, Bun-bun,’ Jack said when he came into view, and smiled; there was blood in his teeth.

There was blood over a lot of him, Aster noted distantly as he strode over, though how much or where from, he couldn’t tell. He was holding his right side tightly, wincing whenever he breathed, and his knee was swollen, though his pants were helping with compression. His left hand was clenched tightly around his staff.

‘I’d ask ye if ye were alright,’ Aster said mildly, trying to not let the panic through his voice, ‘but I’d be a bit dim to, I reckon.’

Jack laughed a little, then flinched, cutting off the sound.

‘What happened?’ Aster demanded, kneeling beside him. He turned his bandolier around to get at the bigger pockets, where he kept emergency supplies.

Jack offered a sheepish grin, more than Aster had gotten for a decade or so. ‘So, would you believe me if I told you that, for the fifth goddamn time -’

‘Are ye  _ serious? _ ’ Aster groaned. ‘Again? Ye’d think after the last two times ye kicked their arses, they’d stop trying.’

Aster had hoped that would lighten the mood a little, even as he pulled gauze and a small jar of salve out, but Jack’s face darkened.

‘Yeah, about that,’ Jack said, his voice dark with anger; Aster paused, but realised it wasn’t for him when Jack snapped out, ‘it’s not about the kids, you know that, right?’

‘What?’

‘They’re not trapping kids,’ Jack said, still angry but staring at him, as if trying to will the message through his eyes. ‘They were trying to trap  _ you. _ ’

Aster scoffed, but there was ice pooling in his chest. ‘Pull the other one,’ he said, and prodded gently at Jack’s right arm, trying to get him to move it. Jack shook his head stubbornly. ‘Come on, what’s the point of calling me if ye’re not going to let me help?’ he snarled, irritation getting the better of him.

‘You’ve gotta know,’ Jack said, beginning to look a little desperate. ‘There’s other stuff out there - it was the sprites doing it, but they were doing what they were told. He’s messing with everyone, there were - these big dark things, they looked like horses sometimes -’

‘What are ye on about?’ Aster said, but the dread had grown claws in his chest. He knew.

‘Pitch Black.’ Jack shook his head, and spat off to the side, saliva dark red with his own blood. ‘Look, it’s not my business, but he made it my business when he started messing with kids like this, and making the sprites act up,’ he said, hand clamping more tightly to his side. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s the Guardians’ mess, which means I had to tell you. You’ve got to tell the others, okay, there’s something funny going on and I don’t like it -’

‘Jack,’ Aster cut through, ‘What’s wrong with yer side?’

Jack winced. ‘Well, uh,’ he said, looking away, ‘wouldn’t you know, if you keep screwing with the big names’ games, they start to get annoyed? Weird, right?’ He laughed a little. ‘Uh, fair warning, he’s got some big scythe thing. Also? A giant creep.’

Then, Aster realised where all the blood was coming from.

‘Jack, move yer hand,’ he commanded, already reaching over. ‘We’ve got to shut that, now -’

‘It’s not that big a deal,’ Jack protested, squirming a bit. ‘It’s a cut, it’ll heal.’

‘Ye’re covered in blood and it’s not a big deal?!’ Aster demanded. ‘Move. Yer hand. Ye could be infected!’

‘With what?’ Jack said, startled, and Aster didn’t want to think about it, couldn’t think about it -

‘We’re moving, now,’ Aster said. ‘I don’t have the things I need here - ye need more than a bandage, mate, can ye move at all?’

Jack was staring at him. ‘Why do you care?’ he asked, and Aster didn’t know what stung worse - the genuine surprise in his voice, or the hollow look in his eyes.

‘Ye’ve saved me holiday five times, now,’ Aster said roughly. ‘If ye don’t want to think I’m a decent enough person to help ye out of the good of me own heart, fine. Think of it as a debt owed. Can ye move?’

Now Jack just looked bewildered. ‘Don’t want - what the hell, Bunny?’

‘Can. Ye. Move?’

‘Uh - yeah, with the wind, yeah,’ Jack nodded, still looking like he had no idea what was going on. ‘It’s a little bumpy, but I’ll manage. Where are we -?’

‘North Pole,’ Bunny replied curtly. ‘North will have most of the things I’ll need, as long as he didn’t go experimenting with them. Which he might have, he’s not the brightest star in the sky.’

Jack was staring at him still, eyes wide. ‘You’re taking me to the North Pole?’ he said. ‘Are you even allowed?’

Aster rolled his eyes. ‘North’s a good bloke,’ he said, sitting back; Jack was still firmly refusing to move his hand. ‘Sides, it’s an emergency. Let’s go.’

Very slowly (and  _ very  _ wobbly, Aster noted), Jack was picked up by a curl of the sharp wind around them, jaw clenched as his knee was jostled this way and that in the wind. ‘It’s fine,’ he said to Aster’s glance. ‘I’ve had worse. Can we go?’

Aster bit back how badly he just wanted to ask what he’d done, to be so damn untrustworthy in Jack’s eyes and still worth facing down Pitch for, and nodded. ‘Follow me,’ he said. ‘And take it easy on that leg.’

He headed north, trying to not flinch at the harsh breathing he could hear behind him; the aurora still shone above them (not that he’d seen it, searching as he’d been for Jack), and when they were within sight of the Pole, Aster’s paws stinging in the ice and snow, he couldn’t take it anymore.

‘Come here,’ he demanded, and Jack looked at him, surprised.

‘What?’

‘Ye’ve probably wrenched that damn knee halfway to Andromeda by now, come here,’ and when Jack floated nearer, skittish as always, Aster snatched him out of the air. Jack hissed in pain, but his knee was no longer bouncing around, and Aster had been careful not to dislodge Jack’s hand from his right side. Nearly jabbed himself in the eye with the staff, though.

‘Are we really doing this right now?’ Jack asked, a bit breathless from the shock. His eyes, glowing faintly blue in his annoyance, were trained squarely on Aster’s. ‘What’s your problem? I’m fine.’

‘Ye’re half dead,’ Aster snapped. ‘Belt up.’

He strode the last distance, ignoring the bloke’s grumbling (and there was a  _ lot _ of it, he could spit blue like a sailor), and banged the door open with a shoulder.

A yeti, pale brown and massive, stood startled behind it, and Aster quirked an eyebrow.

‘Danica,’ he said politely. ‘Mind getting North for me? Got a bit of a situation here.’

Jack snorted from his place in Aster’s arms, and Aster twitched his ear.

Danica nodded, responding too quickly in Yentish for Aster to get more than the gist, and hurried off, gesturing for them to follow.

‘Huh,’ Jack said, clearly over his mood. ‘So this is the North Pole.’

‘S’good place, if ye don’t mind red,’ Aster agreed, rolling his eyes at the memory of North decorating the place.

‘It’s very - uh, cheerful,’ Jack said, looking around with the same expression he’d worn all those decades past, when he’d entered the Warren. He’d worn it the other times, too, but never again so unabashed. ‘There’s a lot of green, too, look.’

‘Not enough, in me opinion,’ Aster said. ‘Oi, Danica, can ye get us to a room with bandages? Jack’s bleeding something fierce, I want to get it patched.’

He could feel the tackiness of the blood matting in his fur, and it must have just registered to the yeti, who stared and then yelled for another yeti, this one taller and a dusty grey.

‘Oh, hey, I know that one,’ Jack said, and grinned at him. ‘Hi, Phil.’

The yeti just looked alarmed, and after a brief conversation, Danica continued on her way and Phil began to lead them in a different direction.

‘How do ye know one of the yeti?’ Aster asked, confused.

‘Oh, I’ve tried to break in once or twice, see what the fuss was about. He’s the one who keeps catching me,’ Jack said offhandedly.

Aster almost tripped. ‘Wait, ye  _ got in? _ ’

‘Well, yeah,’ Jack said, giving him a weird look. ‘It wasn’t that hard. Pop a window.’

Aster wanted to say something about how this place had some of the tightest wards of any place on earth outside of the Warren or Santoff Claussen, but held his tongue when Phil gestured to the door into a room. Aster stepped by and was relieved to see it was something of a medical ward - two cots, some shelves, sinks, bandages and jars of medicines set neatly along the walls.

‘Alright, hold still,’ Aster said, setting Jack down on the nearest bed. ‘Reckon North and the others will be here soon, and I’d like to at least stop the the bleeding before he gets in.’

Jack watched him, wide-eyed again as Aster began to go through the jars. He was looking for the moon-dust salve, and whilst at home he could just look for the glowing white jar, there were a number of glowing white jars here, and none of them were labelled.

‘Why are you doing this?’

Aster paused. ‘I told ye why.’

‘Yeah, but - people don’t do that,’ Jack said, sounding a little hazy. Aster turned to see his eyes unfocussed, staring into space. His knuckles were snow white around his staff. ‘Not even people like you.’

‘What does that mean?’ Aster asked, holding onto his patience with both paws. He both hoped that gaze wasn’t the result of a concussion, and that it  _ was _ \- he wasn’t sure what else it could be, and a concussion he could fix.

‘Good people,’ Jack murmured.

Aster couldn’t help it - he huffed out a bit of a laugh.

‘Not sure I want to meet the people ye think are good, then,’ he said, annoyed at himself. ‘Though I’m not too sure ye actually think that highly of me.’

Jack shook his head, and now his gaze was focussed - and horrified. ‘What?’ he gaped. ‘Not - what?’

‘I mean, ye’ll save me holiday, but ye won’t talk to me for more than ten minutes,’ Aster pointed out. He turned back to continue looking. ‘It’s fine, Jack. Ye just sit there and -’

‘That’s not true!’ Jack burst out. ‘You’re the one who -’

The door opened, and Aster actually heard Jack’s teeth click together, he shut his mouth so quickly.

‘Bunny!’ North said loudly, stomping inside. ‘First, you ignore aurora, then Danica tells me you -’

Aster could hear the moment when North caught sight of Jack. The entire room went silent but for the whirring of Tooth’s wings and her quiet gasp when she saw. Sandy, as always, was near silent; Aster couldn’t hear what he did. He continued to look for the jar.

‘Uh, sorry,’ Jack said, voice a little more high-pitched, and Aster could hear the panic stuffed down. ‘I tried to tell him to go.’

‘Bunny?’ Tooth said, and Aster sighed, then turn around once more.

‘It’s not mine, it’s his,’ he said immediately, when North turned an interesting grey colour and Tooth shrieked softly. Sandy was still looking at Jack, staring intently. ‘Can ye just tell me what’s going on while I patch him? He needs it looked at immediately, and there’s a chance it’s infected.’ He snagged bandages and stalked over to the bedside. ‘North, find the moondust salve, it’s the only thing we’ve got that halfway works against Fearlings.’

North, if possible, went more grey, and went towards the jars without question. Tooth watched them both, eyes wide.

‘Come on, move yer hand, ye dero,’ Aster said, annoyed when Jack didn’t immediately do so.

‘I’m fine, really, it’s not a big deal, I can go -’

‘Ye’re not going anywhere,’ Aster snapped. ‘Stars, do ye  _ want _ to bleed out?’

Jack looked like he wanted to argue, but he cast another nervous glance around the room, and shut his mouth.

‘Jack,’ Aster said, losing his patience, ‘no one here is going to hurt ye, or kick ye out. As soon as ye’re patched, ye can go, but ye have to hold -’

‘Wait, wait!’ Tooth said, holding out her hands in the universal stop gesture. ‘What happened? Why are you helping him?’

Jack flinched, and Aster paused.

‘Excuse me?’ he asked, looking up at her. It had been yonks since any of them spent time together, but that had sounded…

‘I thought you two -’ she started, then looked between them. ‘You don’t hate each other?’

Aster reared back, as if slapped, and Jack looked about the same.

‘I could never! He’s  _ Bunny! _ ’ Jack yelped at the same time as Aster spluttered ‘Hate him? He’s saved me holiday five times!’

Aster looked down at Jack, who had turned to stare back at him.

‘What do ye mean, he’s  _ Bunny? _ ’ Aster said, feeling gobsmacked.

‘What do  _ you _ mean?’ Jack replied. ‘I thought you - everyone said -’

‘Who said what?’ Aster said, and looked over at the others, who were staring avidly. ‘What in the hell is going on?’

‘We…’ North began, then shook his head. ‘Blizzard of 1968. Easter Sunday blizzard. Ruined Easter, and it was Jack Frost who did it. Everyone knows that.’

Jack was hunched into himself, and Aster hated that.

‘No, he didn’t!’ he snapped. ‘I was there, ye might recall. He’s the only reason Easter happened at all.’

Tooth looked disbelieving. ‘What?’

‘I was there!’ Aster snarled. ‘I was  _ there,  _ he made the blizzard go away! Are ye lot daft? Did anyone ask  _ him  _ what happened?’

‘Would he have told truth?’ North said, looking very uncomfortable. He held out a jar, and Aster snatched it away.

‘ _ He _ is sitting right in front of you,’ Jack said loudly, sounding pissed off. ‘Thanks, by the way, good to know Santa Claus is a jerk.’

‘It wasn’t him,’ Aster said, staring straight at North and refusing to move. ‘He saved a tyke’s life, and me holiday. He did it again in ‘70, and ‘82, and ‘96. And just now.’ North was squirming. ‘He didn’t have to. The least ye could do is let me  _ stop him from corrupting into a Fearling _ before ye start to talk to him like he’s a criminal, yeah?’

‘Into a  _ what? _ ’ Jack said, looking a tinge wild when Aster looked back down, away from North’s ashamed face.

‘A Fearling,’ Aster said, keeping his voice calm. ‘It’s a long yarn, and I’m not good at telling it.’ Didn’t want to tell it at all, but he wasn’t going to admit that to someone who could face off against Pitch and live, all on his lonesome. ‘Keeping it short, ye don’t want to be infected. Come on, shirt off, let me see the damage.’

To his surprise, Jack chose instead to slowly grin at him, making no moves to do anything. ‘So you don’t hate me, you really  _ do _ just suck at talking to people,’ he said, voice somewhere between wondrous and surprised, and Aster jerked. That hurt. Jack had actually thought - what, on everyone else’s word?

‘It’s not me fault ye kept running off like I’d set ye on fire,’ Aster said gruffly, hiding the bizarrely vulnerable feeling behind irritability. ‘Practically didn’t bother closing the tunnel up after ye. What, ye think I feed every pile of bones I see?’

‘Chocolate eggs,’ Jack replied, still grinning, and Aster rolled his eyes. He had to give him that one; he looked so relieved to find out he wasn’t hated, though, that Aster couldn’t hold it against him. Jack finally moved his hand, hissing as he did so, and removed the sweatshirt.

Aster eyed the cut in his side, still bleeding sluggishly; to his relief, there was none of the puckered, warped skin he’d feared he’d find, the edges of the cut neat and pale beneath the blood, no hint of darkness. ‘Ye’re a lucky bloke,’ he said flatly. ‘Ye squared off against  _ Pitch.  _ Strewth, wouldn’t like those odds for meself.’

‘ _ What. _ ’

Aster looked over at North. ‘What, ye thought he got like this for a lark?’ he said acidly. He was deeply annoyed at them all at the moment, and not bothering to hide it. He dabbed the salve against the cut with gentle fingers, even though there was no sign of infection, and placed a thick pad of gauze over it. ‘Lift yer arms a bit, if ye can,’ he said to Jack, who obeyed, grin still on his face. Aster smiled back, unable to help himself, and then flinched at the cough off from the side.

‘I’m sorry,’ Tooth said, her face strange, ‘but I have to - he fought  _ Pitch? _ Who else was with him?’

‘There were the sprites I was originally looking for,’ Jack supplied, only wincing a little as Aster began to wrap a bandage around his midsection. ‘Then, turned out, Pitch was kind of their ringleader? I don’t know, he showed up and started talking big shit -’

Tooth made a noise like a billy whistling, and Aster snorted.

‘Tooth, don’t start that shite,’ he said, tucking the end of the bandage in. ‘Ye curse worse than he ever could if ye so much as stub yer toes.’

He couldn’t see the expression she made at that, but from the quick, stifled chuckle he could hear under Jack’s breath, it was a good one.

‘Anyway, yeah,’ Jack continued. ‘The sprites, and these weird black things that looked like horses half the time, and - I don’t even know, the other half. Freaked me out, let me tell you. And, uh, I’ve never had someone attempt to recruit me for evil, that was new, but he was real pissed when I told him to fuck off.’

‘I didn’t mean him,’ Tooth said, even though Aster could hear the worry in her voice. ‘I meant  _ you _ .’

Jack seemed confused. ‘What?’

‘Who was with you when Pitch came?’ she asked, voice terribly gentle. ‘Are you - are you the only one left?’

Aster realised what she was getting at, and could see why; it was remarkable, that Jack had survived at all, much less alone. Jack’s left hand tightened on his staff again. 

‘There wasn’t anyone,’ Jack replied slowly. ‘Uh. I’m kind of - solo. All the time.’

There was silence.

‘I’m going to have to cut yer pants,’ Aster said with a sigh. ‘I’ve got to see that knee.’

‘It’s okay,’ Jack said back, carefully not looking at anything.

‘You were  _ alone?’ _ Tooth asked, her voice weak.

‘For the record, mate,’ Aster muttered, ‘ye could have knocked right  _ before _ everything went to shite.’

‘Happened kind of fast, Bugs,’ Jack replied, and shrugged, wincing as Aster began to cut away the leather of his pants. They were unsalvageable, but the swelling was impressive enough that Aster didn’t want to risk just removing the things. ‘It got wrenched around, a bit,’ Jack admitted when the pants leg was removed.

Aster stared at the impressively purple and red bruise on his calf, pretty unmistakably horse’s teeth, and sighed. ‘A bit, he says,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘A  _ bit _ .’

‘It’s all good in the end,’ Jack said cheerfully, despite how horrendously swollen his knee was. ‘I mean, I got away, right? And I warned you that Pitch was instigating the blizzards.’

Aster paused. ‘All of them?’

‘All the way back to ‘68, I’m pretty sure,’ Jack confirmed, the cheer bleeding away. ‘He said I’d been messing up his plans for years, so it really could be anything.’

Aster just held still. Years now,  _ years _ Pitch had been active. And they only knew now? How could none of them seen this coming?

How much sooner could everything have gone to hell, if not for the boy who sat on the bed in front of him?

‘Thank ye,’ he said hoarsely.

Jack shifted a bit. ‘Um. No problem.’

Aster huffed at that.

‘So - wait, what made you guys pull the alarm thing?’ Jack asked, clearly desperate for a subject change. ‘Am I allowed to ask?’

‘You’re definitely allowed to ask,’ Tooth said, sounding like she’d taken a hit to the head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Toothiana.’

‘Jack,’ Jack said. ‘And, okay, but I thought the Guardians were pretty hush-hush. I can just leave if you have to have your super secret meetings, or whatever.’

‘Ye’re not going anywhere with that,’ Aster snapped, and reached for another bandage. ‘North, grab the niphredil and athelas cream, if ye could, I want to get the swelling down. Looks like he tore a muscle.’

North began to fossick through the other jars, looking for the pale green cream Aster had described, but Aster did not miss the glance the two of them shared, nor the way Sandy sidled forward.

‘What happened?’ Aster asked, looking to Sandy; Sandy was a terrible liar, and it was starting to concern Aster, how long none of them had mentioned the aurora. ‘Why was the aurora activated?’

Sandy began to sign, flickering through symbols more quickly than he would for the others; Pitch’s profile, a globe, North’s shorthand name of a candy cane, movement and shadow’s symbols imposed on one another.

‘Wait, Pitch was  _ here _ ?’

Sandy nodded, then shook his head, repeating the sand and shadow symbol. A wobbling line with a steep dip and sharp incline, like a square root sign reversed and drawn with someone’s non-dominant hand. Corruption.

‘What’s he saying?’ Jack asked, watching intently.

‘Some kind of corrupt shadow, from the description,’ Aster replied, and accepted the jar from North. Jack hissed as Aster slathered it on the swelling knee. ‘I know, the athelas tingles,’ he said sympathetically. ‘It’ll get ye right soon, don’t worry.’

‘It feels like my leg fell asleep,’ Jack complained, but he was still looking at Sandy’s sand. ‘It looked like that - the changing shapes, thing. It looked like sand.’

‘What did?’

‘The horse-things with Pitch.’

Sandy was startled by that, and signed a quick question.

‘Er, he’s asking - hold on, last one again, mate,’ Aster said.

Sandy signed the question again, a touch slower.

‘Okay. He said ‘did it look like this?’, and he wants to try and replicate it.’

Jack shivered, but nodded. Sandy turned, and with a grand sweep of his arm, the dreamsand shifted and swirled until a beautiful horse stood beside him, stylized curls to its mane. Sandy was an artist, for sure. If not for the uniform golden colour, Aster could almost say it breathed.

‘Yeah, sort of,’ Jack said, staring at the horse. ‘But way worse. A horse out of a nightmare, basically.’

Sandy snapped his fingers, and the horse collapsed.

‘Pitch looked like that,’ North agreed; he’d been quiet, an unusual state of affairs for him, and Aster looked over. ‘Black, though. I did not think to compare with sand.’

‘Yeah, well, I got to see them up close,’ Jack said uncomfortably. ‘Definitely sand.’

‘Can that happen?’ Tooth asked, violet eyes wide.

Sandy shrugged, the clearest  _ who knows _ Aster had ever seen.

‘After I triggered aurora,’ North said, catching everyone’s attention, ‘and Tooth and Sandy arrived, something new happened.’

‘Oh, great, what else did I miss?’ Aster groaned.

North had a strange look on his face. ‘Moon Crystal rose.’

Aster flinched. ‘No,’ he murmured, awed. ‘So - Tsar Lunar -?’

‘Man in Moon chose new Guardian,’ North agreed.

‘Tell me it’s not the Ground -’

‘It’s not the Groundhog, Bunny,’ Tooth sighed, and Aster relaxed a little.

‘Wait,’ Jack said, and when Aster looked back down, Jack was frowning. ‘The Man in the Moon talks to you?’

‘He is not so wordy, but yes,’ North answered, and looked ready to continue talking when Jack said quietly,

‘Why?’

Aster twitched his ears. ‘Do ye know him at all?’

Jack didn’t say anything else, and Aster was reminded with a sick twist of his insides the way he had looked all those decades past, Patty asking who Aster was talking to and Jack looking on, invisible and unnoticed.

Invisible…

‘No,’ Aster said, whipping his head up, and North’s face said it all. ‘No, ye’re kidding.’

‘What?’ Jack asked, shaking himself out of whatever had caught him.

‘You are Guardian,’ North said, a gentle but immutable finality to the words.

Silence fell, as heavy as any whiteout.

‘Bullshit,’ Jack said at last, but it sounded resigned. ‘I’m not - that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.’

‘The Moon chose you,’ Tooth said. ‘You’re one of us, Jack.’

‘I’m not one of  _ anything, _ ’ Jack snapped. ‘I’m not - this is  _ sick,  _ are you fucking with me? Three hundred years of silence, and he can’t even say it to my fucking  _ face? _ ’

‘Jack,’ Aster said, alarmed as Jack began to tremble, fine tremors beneath his still-bloodied skin. ‘Jack, mate, what are ye -’

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Jack snapped, voice brittle. ‘Leave it be, Bunny.’

Bunny opened his mouth to argue, then bit the inside of his cheek, loyalty and duty warring in his chest. He knew he should ask, should push the issue; if it was about a new Guardian, he  _ had _ to. What endangered one endangered them all, after all.

The loyalty was winning, though, Jack’s expression fragile, his body bruised and beaten and bleeding because of  _ Aster.  _ And all he asked was that Aster leave it be. Didn’t he owe him that, at the very least?

‘Drop it, North,’ Aster said automatically, catching North’s mouth opening.  North scowled. ‘Well, is good to see you make friends outside work, at least,’ he said instead of whatever he’d been about to say.

Aster scowled right back. ‘Wasn’t easy, with everyone in the damn world trying to make us hate each other,’ he replied, and was rewarded with Tooth and North’s twin flinches. ‘Next time, just as a thought, ye could  _ ask. _ ’

To Aster’s eternal relief, Sandy nodded, looking at least half as annoyed as Aster felt. He’d always known Sandy was the sensible one.

‘Now,’ Aster said, looking at each of the people in the room one by one. ‘We need to figure a few things out.’ Sandy nodded, chin thrust out and brows drawn like he intended to go to war this moment. ‘We need to find out where Pitch is right now.’ Nick’s face was ashamed, but he held Aster’s gaze easily; he’d never been lacking for spine, for certain. ‘We need to find out what his plan is.’ Tooth’s fists were clenched at her side, and her gaze did not waver. ‘And what ye intend to do about Tsar Lunar’s offer,’ he said to Jack. Jack jerked, startled. ‘Let me be clear - it is always an offer. Ye  _ do not _ need to take it.’ Aster took a deep breath. ‘For what me opinion’s worth, ye would be good at it.’

Jack looked as if Aster had jobbed him in the jaw.

‘Let’s get started,’ Aster said, and stepped back.

  
  


Jack watched, still dumbstruck, as the Guardians filed out of the room. Bunny smiled at him, which did not help with the whole roiling-inner-turmoil thing.

‘We’ll be in the Workshop, I expect,’ he said, ‘So give yerself about an hour for the niphredil to do its job before getting up, yeah? If ye need anything, ask one of the yetis, or have ‘em bring ye to us.’

‘Got it,’ Jack said faintly, and Bunny left the room, still bloodstained, still smiling.

Jack’s head hurt. Everything hurt, from his skull to his toes, but he guessed that’s what he got for fighting the Boogeyman.

Mostly, what hurt was something a little more intangible, and he turned away from the door, looking out at the window. He had no idea what time it was, but he could see the Moon, full and round, sitting pale in a blue sky, and he grit his teeth.

‘What the fuck,’ he muttered. ‘A Guardian? What the hell are you thinking?’

Like every time he’d tried to talk to him for the past  _ three centuries, _ there was no response. It just infuriated Jack more.

‘Who the hell do you think you are, huh?’ Jack demanded, voice a little louder. ‘You gave me my name and then - nothing. Nothing! What am I supposed to be a Guardian of, anyway?!’

More silence.

Jack, for lack of anything else to do, slumped back into the pillows. The bandage at his side pulled at the slice he’d been dealt, and Jack’s breath caught. It hurt - he’d never seen so much of his own blood, not even during that big fight back in ‘82. He’d been so pissed, he hadn’t noticed the skin was missing from both his palms until the fight was long over. He’d let it heal before going to find Bunny, but that was still a long, painful week.

‘A Guardian,’ Jack huffed. ‘How the fuck am I supposed to be a Guardian of  _ anything _ when everyone hates me?’

And they did, Jack knew. You didn’t spend three centuries as the butt of every joke and the fuck-up who could do nothing right, no matter whether or not you had -

He bit back the anger. He’d thought… well, he didn’t think he’d be over it, he knew. You didn’t just  _ get over _ shit like this. But he’d thought he’d at last managed to stop being bothered by it.

The ice trail thing this morning - Jaime on his sled, back in Burgess - and the constant reminder that no one could see him, no one believed in him, had shook him up. Then he’d felt the sprites start messing with the weather patterns, and he hadn’t had any time to process it, was all. Jack knew he took more time than most to process things like that.

He blamed it on being alone for so long, and cast another hateful glance out the window.

But, hey, he’d knocked, and Bunny had come. Which was - awesome. Jack had thought, when the first hour had passed, that Bunny had forgotten. He wouldn’t blame him - it had been, what, forty-something years since Bunny’d told him that? And Jack regretted having not used it earlier - he probably could have, after ‘82, but. It was just. He didn’t want - he didn’t want to  _ waste  _ it.

Jack didn’t often feel safe, with everyone constantly trying to shove his head into the metaphorical locker. There’d even been that one nasty sea-hag, back in the thirties, who’d tried to do it a little more literally because, and Jack’s quoting here, he was ‘insufferably chipper’. Being locked forever in Davy Jones’ Locker did not a Happy Jack make, but it had been a hell of a trick getting away. As far as he knew, she was still fuming at the bottom of the sea. Point was, Jack didn’t generally get to relax, but somehow, having that one failsafe had managed to make something loosen in his chest.

Everyone knew the Easter Bunny hated Jack Frost. Everyone said so; the guy loved Easter (for obvious reasons), and whenever the Blizzard of ‘68 was mentioned, his face would go dark and he’d mumble something very threatening-sounding. And everyone knew Jack Frost was behind it. Ergo, the Easter Bunny hated Jack Frost.

And Jack didn’t really question that. He only saw the guy for a few minutes, really; he always felt weird, taking up Bunny’s time, especially since the problems he was letting Bunny know about hadn’t actually happened. Plus, Bunny was busy, and a Guardian, and always looked tense as hell whenever Jack leapt down into one of the stunning tunnels beneath the surface. He kept shoving chocolate on Jack, but Jack had been pretty sure that was a personal challenge sort of thing.

Jack had figured he was at least willing to believe Jack was telling the truth about the sprites, even if he’d never told other people that Jack hadn’t caused ‘68. He at least looked suitably concerned.

Jack couldn’t  _ stand  _ it, though, standing there and waiting for Bunny to tell him to get out, to finally drop the pleasant façade that was only there because Jack was helping out a little, to prove everyone right. Jack loved the Warren - more than he’d ever admit, honestly, all of its green life and gentle sunshine and cool spring air - but he didn’t want to stick around for the inevitable  _ okay, you’ve overstayed your welcome and outlived your usefulness, leave. _

And then -

Bunny had  _ come.  _ He’d looked  _ worried.  _ He’d grabbed Jack out of the air because his knee was getting knocked around and  _ carried him into the North Pole.  _ And he’d said that thing, right, that thing right before they got moving from the spot Jack had crawled to after escaping, which had started Jack’s brain spinning in his skull.

_ If ye don’t want to think I’m a decent enough person to help ye out of the good of me own heart, fine. Think of it as a debt owed. _

Which was so, so wrong - he’d thought Bunny had just been mad because Jack wasn’t letting him touch the big hole in his side. Because people like Bunny didn’t  _ help _ Jack, okay. He was untouchable, he was the guy people tried to shove into eternal ocean-prisons because he cracked a smile, he didn’t get  _ help,  _ he got insults and people throwing punches.

But that wasn’t true anymore, Jack thought, not entirely, and for the first time since everyone else had left, he grinned.

Turned out, Bun-Bun just  _ sucked _ at talking to people. And also, payed like zero attention to gossip. He hadn’t even known people blamed Jack for ‘68.

He’d said as much to Santa Claus. He’d yelled. Not at Jack, but freaking  _ Santa.  _ For believing the same thing everyone else had. He’d said Jack had saved his holiday. He  _ believed Jack,  _ and all this time, Jack had thought - had thought -

He was crying, he realised, and he wiped at his face in annoyance before he realised his hands were still covered in blood.

The door opened, and Jack flinched. Time to go, he figured.

‘Ye managed to hold still,’ Bunny said, entering the room and looking pleased. ‘Good, I reckoned ye’d be bouncing off the walls. Yer knee should be fine by now, if ye heal quick as I suspect.’

Jack, thrown, stared at Bunny. 

‘What?’ Bunny asked, and there, at least, was a bit of the defensiveness Jack knew.

‘You’ve still got - you know,’ he said, gesturing at his blood all dried in Bunny’s fur. It was better than saying  _ I thought you were here to kick me out.  _ Man, did he have trust issues.

Bunny jerked, looked down at himself, and scowled. ‘Crikey, I forgot,’ he said, huffing aloud. ‘No wonder the yeti weren’t within cooee of me.’

He marched over to the same cabinet he’d pulled the medicine from and rummaged around a bit, until he withdrew a stack of linen cloths. ‘Here, ye’re a mess, too,’ he said, handing half of them to Jack. ‘Hold on, I’ll get ye some water - not sure what to do about yer clothes, though.’

Mess was right, Jack knew; one pant leg half-missing, sweatshirt shredded all to hell, blood soaked in like deep brown dye. Bunny set a basin of water beside Jack on the cot, before going back to the sink.

It was silent in the room, and Jack wasn’t sure how to break it. He just wiped at the blood until it was gone, leaving the basin filled with red water, a thin rime of ice all around the edge. Normally, he had better control than that, and he frowned at the basin. He must be worse off than he’d thought.

He was clean - well, as clean as he could get without a long swim in a lake, at least - and he swung his leg over the edge of the cot. The swelling was almost completely gone, and though it still ached, it was moving. Good.

‘Alright, then?’

Jack jumped, having managed to forget Bunny was still in the room. The guy was quiet, damn.

Bunny was watching him, all his fur down the front damp but clean, and he seemed… nervous. Which was weird. He didn’t have a reason to be, did he? Jack wracked his brain, but couldn’t think of what he’d done to put that kind of look on Bunny’s face.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, cautiously flexing the knee, and only winced a little at the pull and stretch. ‘What the hell was in that stuff?’

Bunny relaxed, shoulders dropping from their hunch, and Jack realised, a little stunned by it, that Bunny had been nervous  _ for  _ him.

‘Niphredil,’ Bunny said, voice having lost a taut thread of tension Jack hadn’t noticed was there until it was gone. ‘Kind of flower, rare. Good for just about any muscle damage. The snow magic in it probably didn’t hurt ye any, either.’

‘Okay,’ Jack said, and got to his feet. It hurt, enough that he probably shouldn’t be walking on it yet, but it was better than some he’d walked on. The bandage at his side was still clean when he checked, other than the blood from his own touches earlier, and he turned and picked up his filthy sweatshirt. ‘Can I use the sink?’

‘Oh! Yeah, shite, sorry,’ Bunny said, stepping hurriedly out of the way. Jack didn’t get that, either - didn’t get a lot about Bunny.

He soaked his sweatshirt, and started to wring it out.

It was silent a moment more, and then Jack, because he couldn’t control his own damned mouth when he was nervous, blurted out ‘Did you mean it?’

He stared down at his own hands, pinkened water running through his fingers, and wished emphatically that he could melt like snow and disappear entirely.

‘Mean what?’ Bunny asked after a long moment, the words level, like he was holding on to his temper. Jack flinched, just the tiniest bit.

‘Never mind, it was a dumb -’

‘Jack, it’s fine,’ Bunny interrupted. ‘What did ye want to know? Did I mean what?’

Jack took a deep breath. Great. Thanks, mouth, for getting him into  _ another _ problem. Really, he was just super grateful.

‘When you said - you thought I’d -’

And now he couldn’t even finish a sentence. Fucking  _ spectacular.  _ And it wasn’t like it  _ mattered,  _ because there was no way in hell that Jack was doing it, okay, he wasn’t going to become the Moon’s lackey just because he said so.

‘Yes, I did mean it,’ Bunny said. It was neither too fast nor too long in coming; it was precise, sure, and it almost rocked Jack back on his heels. ‘Bloody oath, Jack. Is that what’s bothering ye?’

Jack didn’t answer, because holy shit, did he  _ not _ want to talk about this.

‘It’s a choice, Jack,’ Bunny said, and stepped nearer, leaning against the counter sink. It wasn’t so close that he was in Jack’s personal space bubble, but Jack could see him out of the corner of his eye now, and in a way, that was worse. ‘It always has been. Believe ye me, I didn’t want it when the offer first rolled around, either.’

Jack flinched, dropped his sweatshirt into the sink with a sodden thump. ‘What?’ he said, turning to stare before he can think about it. ‘You didn’t - what?’

Bunny was looking off into the middle distance, grinning, but it wasn’t entirely a happy one. ‘I mean,’ he said, sounding as if he wasn’t entirely talking to Jack - almost more thinking aloud - ‘It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help. Didn’t really feel much one way or the other. Didn’t interest me.’

Jack felt frozen in place.

‘Course, I’ve got an awful soft spot for tin lids, and when they told me a big heap of ‘em were in trouble, I was sold,’ Bunny shrugged, and then shook himself, like he was dragging himself back to the present moment. ‘In the end, it didn’t have much to do Tsar Lunar’s choice,’ he said, looking over at Jack. ‘It was mine. Not much of a choice, in me opinion, but then, I’ve always been terrible about that. If there’s something I can do, I ought to do it.’

Jack had to work really, really hard not to flinch again. It was becoming a problem.

‘Sorry, I know ye didn’t want to talk about this,’ Bunny said, ears dropping a bit, and he looked away. ‘I’m not -’

‘No, it’s okay,’ Jack blurts hastily. ‘It’s just - I -’

How do you say  _ he left me alone for three hundred years and then demanded i helped him out?  _ Or  _ I don’t even know who I really am, but the way you just said that makes my head hurt, like I’m trying to remember something that isn’t there? _ Jack bit his lip.

‘S’alright, Frostbite,’ Bunny said, and Jack snapped his gaze back up, startled. Bunny’s face looked surprised, but snapped into defensiveness almost before Jack could really register it. ‘What?’

‘Frostbite?’ Jack repeated.

Bunny’s ears were laid flat to his head, tips tucked in tightly towards the centre of his back, and he looked off to the side. ‘Ye call me all these ridiculous names,’ he huffed. ‘Seems fair to give ye a taste of yer own medicine.’

Jack wasn’t sure what his face was doing at the moment, but when Bunny looked back over, his face went through a rapid series of changes: surprise, dismay, resignation, and then a very small, very wry quirk to his mouth.

Jack figured it must be okay.

He began to say something like ‘It’s about time you figured out how to crack a joke’, but then North stuck his head in the door, and even Jack could see the lines of concern on his face, so different from the laugh lines.

‘Something goes wrong, Tooth Palace,’ North said. He eyed the both of them. ‘Will you accompany us, Jack?’

Jack knew his answer before North finished the syllable of his name. ‘Give me a second,’ he said.

Wringing the worst of the water from the sweatshirt and relieved when it ran mostly clear, Jack froze it solid, then crushed it in his hands. Dry and cool now, he sealed up the tears and rips in the cloth with some frost, and wriggled into it, ignoring the way the movements pulled at the hole in his side.

‘Ye don’t have to,’ Bunny cautioned, and when Jack looked over, his face was - weird. Jack didn’t know what that expression could be. It was like worry, but Bunny always looked annoyed when worried. He just kind of looked - plain worried. Which, yeah, weird. Jack grinned at him, since that was his default, and it would either irritate him again (always fun) or put him at ease (it had never happened to anyone, in Jack’s experience, but hell, it was worth a shot).

‘Kind of do, Bun-bun,’ he said lightly, and picked his staff up off the bloodstained linens of the cot. ‘Still not sold on the Guardian bullshit, but I don’t have to be one to help out, right?’

Bunny’s expression of surprise was nothing to North’s flat gape. Jack did his best to find it hilarious and not insulting as hell.

‘Well?’ Jack prompted. ‘I’m going to need directions.’

‘No need,’ North said, and for some reason, he was smiling brightly now, all but beaming down at Jack. ‘Come! I will show you way!’

For the record? The sleigh was  _ awesome.  _ Jack could have done without having to see Bunny panic, though. He thought about dropping off the sleigh for a laugh (it wasn’t like he couldn’t fly, after all) but ultimately thought that would err too much on the side of cruelty, considering the way Bunny looked like he was about to faint. Still, sleigh? Cool. As. Hell.

The really not-awesome thing was that as soon as they came out of the portal (and man, did Jack need to get him one of those), they could see the cause of the problem.

‘Are these things going to be everywhere today?!’ Jack demanded, shifting his grip on his staff and standing up from where he’d been crouched on one of the seats. The roiling cloud of sand and hooves was bearing directly towards the sleigh, coal-black as he remembered, and poured from the far off spires of what Jack could only assume was Tooth Palace. If he’d not been so focussed on the black mass, he’d have thought it was pretty, in a sharp kind of way.

‘Is not good sign!’ North replied loudly over the slipstream, and leaned forward, staring at the oncoming cloud fearlessly. ‘They are not fleeing,’ he said after a moment, sounding confused. ‘They are chasing - something -’

Jack saw the glimmer of tiny, blue green feathers, and understood.

‘The fairies!’ He called, and he could see now, the monstrous horses almost up on them, the way the ribcages contained glittering gold and fluttering blue. ‘They’re after the fairies!’

He leapt into the air without thought, straining forward with his staff, and knocked aside the snapping jaws of one of the horse-things, just in time to snatch back one of the tiny hummingbird-like fairies. He dropped back into the sled with the Wind tossing him between the bodies of sand, and landed in a crouch, cradling the tiny girl in his palm. His knee twinged, but he ignored it.

‘You okay, Baby Tooth?’ he asked her, and she really did look so much like the bigger Tooth, just with one eye blue and one eye purple. She chirped at him, the sound relieved, and he pulled up his hood before setting her inside, safe from the slipstream.

‘Crikey, Jack, don’t just toss yerself overboard,’ Bunny said beside him, and Jack looked over, startled. Bunny was staring at him, eyes wide, ears flat against his head.

‘I’m - fine?’ Jack said haltingly, unsure of if that was what Bunny was looking for.

‘Ye damn well better be,’ Bunny muttered, and Jack didn’t know if he was supposed to hear that, but the ears relaxed a hair.

They landed with a great thump and shuddering of the sleigh’s frame, and Jack would have found the way Bunny all but flung himself onto solid ground much funnier if it wasn’t for the way everyone’s face was set in worried lines.

Above them, Jack saw Tooth flying this way and that, dragonfly wings buzzing as she went.

‘The teeth - they took all the - and my - my  _ fairies,  _ I -’ she was saying, so distressed she was unable to form a whole sentence.

From Jack’s hood came a high-pitched chirrup, and Baby Tooth soared out, towards the larger Tooth. She made almost the same noise back and scooped Baby Tooth out of the air, cradling her close; Jack thought that maybe ‘mother’ was as good a word as any as Tooth cooed, ‘Oh, thank goodness one of you is alright! You are alright, aren’t you?’

Baby Tooth chirped again, gesturing miniscule hands in Jack’s direction, and Jack flinched when Tooth’s head snapped up, staring.

‘You saved one of my fairies?’ she asked, soaring near, well into Jack’s space. Jack stumbled back, surprised, and nodded quickly. Anything to get back his personal preference of at least one foot between himself and everyone else. ‘Why?’

_ Ow. _ Jack had to admit, that hurt; but it was no worse than things he’d heard before. Better, because she just sounded like she wanted to know.

‘Uh, the horse - things, you saw them?’

Tooth nodded, her face gone wan. ‘I arrived right after they did.’

‘Then you know they were - catching? Eating?’ Instinctively, Jack looked around, looking for some kind of exit strategy, because Tooth was still too close and historically anyone that close was a very, very bad thing. His eyes landed on Bunny, who was watching closely, and Bunny picked up the thread of the conversation.

‘Eating’s good a word as any, I reckon,’ he said, and Tooth’s attention shifted to him. She darted away from Jack, and it took a lot for him not to suck in a relieved breath. He edged a bit further away, in case she came that close again, towards the edge of the platform they were on. Quick exit, always good to have. ‘They had cages of some kind in their stomachs. I saw the boxes and the teeth. Jack jumped up and grabbed yer fairy, quick as ye please. Gave me a turn, let me tell ye.’

Tooth cuddled her fairy close, and turned back towards Jack, who braced himself. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and began to move in his direction, when a voice spoke.

It echoed off the spires and arches of Tooth Palace, bouncing from all directions, and Jack snapped up straight, hands finding familiar positions on his staff. Of fucking course.

‘Well, isn’t this charming,’ the voice of Pitch Black asked, rolling in like thunderheads. It wasn’t a question. ‘All of the old gang, back together.’ A pause. ‘Oh, look! You’ve a stowaway, I think. I’ll understand if you didn’t notice - I suppose he’s used to that by now.’

Jack flinched.

‘Shut yer gob, Pitch!’ Bunny snapped, but it went unnoticed by the shadowed creep.

The voice slid slickly to some unidentifiable point to Jack’s left, and all of his nerves buzzing, Jack swung his staff in that direction, scanning the myriad nooks and crannies of the Palace.

‘And how  _ are _ we today, Jack? You look a little rough around the edges. Isn’t it past your nap time?’

Jack grit his teeth.

‘Pitch!’ North roared, swords out, looking just as tense as Jack felt. ‘Show yourself! Do not hide in shadows like  _ coward!’ _

‘Is it cowardly, I wonder,’ Pitch replied, and his voice was close,  _ too close,  _ and Jack whirled on his heel - but the shadow was already gone, slipping away and down. He’d been  _ behind him,  _ silently, and Jack cursed himself.

He turned again, and saw Pitch fully at last. He stood on a platform above them, bent over, peering down.

‘Or is it -’

_ ‘You give me my fairies back!’ _ Tooth spat, and she rocketed up, fingers outstretched like claws, and god _ damn, _ Jacck did not want to piss her off, she moved like lightning.

Nevertheless, Pitch slid away, reappearing a tower away, and Jack despised the smirk that stretched over his ghoulish face.

‘Ah, ah, ah,’ Pitch simpered, and tapped his chin. ‘The fairies? Not the teeth? Now, what kind of Guardian puts herself before her precious  _ duty?  _ Not a very good one, I suppose.’

North growled loudly, shifting onto the balls of his feet like he intended to launch himself at Pitch from here. Sandy was watching, neither impassive nor calm but still, eyes unerringly following each of Pitch’s movements.

‘I told ye to shut yer bloody gob, Pitch!’ Bunny snapped. ‘Christ, all ye are is talk, aren’t ye?!’

‘Fear doesn’t need to be more than talk,’ Pitch answered softly. ‘In fact, it’s always better when whispered -’ and here, Jack froze, because suddenly the voice was right beside him. ‘In a doubtful ear,’ Pitch finished.

Jack swiped out, but only caught the edge of a robe as Pitch faded out of reach. Laughter, harsh and jagged, echoed around him, and he felt a hand close around his arm. He just about cracked it a good one when he realised it was a  _ paw,  _ and Aster tugged him over, away from the edge and into the clump of Guardians.

‘Ye leave him alone, Pitch, he’s got nothing to do with it,’ Bunny snarled. ‘Where are the teeth?!’

‘Where all lost things go,’ Pitch replied, and melted into view from above, again peering down. ‘And, oh, the Guardians  _ are _ good at finding lost things, aren’t they? You’ve picked up one of the biggest, after all.’

Jack flinched. It shouldn’t hurt. It was just  _ words.  _ And yet...

‘And why  _ is _ he here?’ Pitch tutted, strolling behind a pillar and reappearing two balconies away. ‘Have you taken to adopting strays, now? Or…’ and he laughed now, like he’d discovered a great joke. The laughter was all wrong in Jack’s ears. ‘Oh, I see. How very droll. You know that he and I had our little tiff earlier! He certainly  _ is _ looking better than when I left him. And - what? Do you think he can help? Well,’ he said, and Jack felt like a lamb on display at a market, the way Pitch considered him then. ‘Help comes from unexpected places, as the expression goes. And Jack would know  _ all _ about those.’

Jack stumbled back, out of the circle, and Pitch prowled down, emerging from the shadowed overhang of a balcony behind the Guardians, who turned to face him.

_ It’s just words,  _ Jack chanted to himself, backing away nonetheless,  _ just words, that doesn’t mean they’re all true, how many words have been untrue - he’s just fucking with you - _

‘Since, after all, I doubt the Moon knows you’re here,’ Pitch added, vicious grin slicing his grey face in half. ‘Then again, no one ever does.’

Jack took another step back, and it was one too many. His heel landed on nothing but air, and his knee, already weak and hurting, crumpled beneath him.

The last thing he saw over the lip of the platform was Bunny snapping his head around, eyes wide and horrified.

_ Sorry, Bun-bun,  _ Jack said in his head, and felt it keenly like a knife in his side - like Pitch’s scythe slick and wrong through his flesh.  _ I can’t - I  _ can’t  _ - _

He let the Wind sweep him up and out, far and away, and didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is2g Bunny legit forgot Jack can fly for a second
> 
> I'll try to have the next part of Compulsion up next week, but it might be another two week wait. This is why I try to finish things before publishing - sometimes they explode. Whoops?


	4. Compulsion II: Loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter is either three days late or four days early, take your pick

Jack felt guilt like an acid in his throat, like he’d been sick for days and laying in a snow drift, praying it would pass. He guessed he must have been somewhere in Asia, because when he told the Wind to take him back to the little lake that had served as his home base for three hundred years, east over the Pacific they went. His knee ached a bit where the Wind jostled it - riding on the Wind was rarely, if ever, a smooth ride - but it didn’t have to bear his weight right now, so it was alright. The medicine was doing its job.

The guilt reared up at the thought that flitted across his mind -  _ at least someone is. _ Jack shoved it back down.

He hadn’t accepted, anyway, he thought fiercely as the coastline came into hazy, distant view. And he wouldn’t. Clearly, this was not a job meant for Jack Frost, if he couldn’t even handle  _ words.  _ How was he supposed to guard anything if he couldn’t even keep from running at the first - god, he was an idiot. An asshole. No wonder no one wanted him around. Flighty, irresponsible  _ Jack fucking Frost - _

He soared on, and bit it back. It didn’t matter. It  _ didn’t.  _ It was over, and the Guardians knew about Pitch’s involvement in the Easter Blizzard attempts, and they’d handled him before, right? They definitely didn’t need him. 

Plus, he’d barely survived the first time. Giant hole in his side, fucked up knee - he clearly wasn’t Guardian material.

Stupid Moon didn’t know what he was talking about, Jack thought savagely. Not that he’d know what the Moon was talking about; not like the fucker would  _ talk to him. _

He finally sped over the coastline, aiming inland. He didn’t really pay attention to where he was going, per se, only reeling in his natural inclination to drop snow in his path. Too near Easter. It might happen naturally, and that wasn’t his fault, but he’d spent too many decades trying to keep it from happening to want to add to the problem, ever.

Guilt, again. Jack ignored it, again.

Hours after he’d left Tooth Palace a dot in the distance, he alit upon the top branch of one of the trees around his lake. Not his lake, not really, but it was a secret, guilty pleasure of his. To call it his own, to claim it.

Snow was still on the ground, but the dark skies were clear, stars twinkling high above, near full moon overhead. Jack directed a scowl in his direction, and didn’t bother to try talking to him again.

‘Home sweet home,’ he muttered to himself, dropping down to the lake itself. The ice was still thick enough to bear his weight, but only just; with a tap of his staff, he fixed that. Sure, it was a little late in the year for it, but he’d already done an awful, selfish thing today. This was so small in comparison.

The Wind followed him as he slid along the ice, bare feet steady and certain in their movements; the knee wasn’t even shaky any longer, completely healed from the damage. The hole in his side, when he removed his shirt and undid the bandage, was already sealed over, the skin almost pink and a bit thicker than the surrounding area. It would be a hell of a scar, but it was already almost healed.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

Jack sat down in the middle of the ice, hunched over, his knees drawn up to his chest. What a way to repay Bunny. Running off at the first hurled insults. Jack rubbed at his forehead with one hand, the other clenched tightly on his staff.

God, and right before they’d left the North Pole, he’d said - god, that thing.

_ ‘If there’s something I can do, I ought to do it.’ _

If Jack didn’t know better, he’d have thought Bunny said that on purpose, to try and get him to help out. Jack had spent decades keeping an ear to the sky, on the off chance the sprites (and Pitch Black, he supposed) would try to fuck with Easter again. Not because it was his job to do so, but because he  _ should.  _ It could hurt kids, and it wasn’t like the Easter Bunny could mess with the weather the way he could. Sure, he could have fucked off - probably should have, after ‘82, that one was rough. But. He couldn’t.

Jack had no idea who he was, where he was from, but he knew that he could do this thing, this weather and happiness thing. He could make kids laugh, and give them snowdays, and keep them  _ safe,  _ as safe as he could. He could, so he had to. And stopping the blizzards had been the same thing. Sure, he’d thought it sucked. No one liked fighting, except maybe the sprites, and they were all assholes, anyway. More important was doing what he ought.

Somewhere in the intervening decades, it had become less about the kids - well, not less. It just expanded. Became about Bunny, too. Which was weird, Jack thought, and tapped his staff on the ice again, sending frost over the pond, since they hadn’t even been friends. Probably weren’t now. He’d fucked it up.

Of course he had, he thought, and his grip on his staff was tight. He was Jack Frost. Everyone knew Jack Frost fucked up. Maybe it was time he believed them.

The Wind kicked up some snow in his face, and he spluttered, surprised. ‘What the hell -’ he went to scold, then froze.

The sky was beginning to cloud over, and the storm sense in the back of his head had woken up, stretching and purring. A good storm was coming, thick and wild, it said, and Jack clenched his teeth.

See, that was the thing. He wasn’t just fighting against the sprites whenever they pulled this shit -  _ again, are you fucking kidding me, AGAIN? -  _ but against himself. There was always a part of Jack Frost that wanted to storm, wanted the blizzard to descend and make the world go white. That he didn’t give in when it could hurt people was the only thing he was proud of himself for. January and February, those he could get away with, and it was fun, for a lot of people. But now? In April?

‘I really,  _ really  _ hate them,’ he said to the Wind, who answered by picking him up and tossing him into the sky.

The first time this had happened, he hadn’t known how to trace magic, how to sense where it came from and where it led, but he’d learned quickly. Now, it was only a matter of seconds for him to pinpoint the spot some miles away, where the sprites had congregated to work their magic, and direct the Wind to carry him slowly, silently. He didn’t interfere just yet, letting them think he hadn’t noticed. He hoped. Who knew what these pricks thought on the best of days.

Silently as snow, he dropped to the ground behind them. There were eleven, in all - pale, harshly pointed faces, balded heads, so thin that their joints seemed swollen. He’d never understood people who romanticised the sprites, the fairy stories and things; they only looked human if you weren’t looking closely, and for the winter sprites, at least, they were far from beautiful. Sickly, dead. Jack had learned, in his travels, the different ways people thought of winter; for Europe, for the sprites that had come over, it was death. Some places it was sleep. Some, fear. Some, peace. The spirits from those places, from those stories, reflected them.

Jack had no idea what stories he reflected, since no one told stories about him. He was an expression.

He bit his lip until it bled, then made himself grin. This, at least, would make him feel better.

With a sudden twist of his staff and a yank at the storm’s magic, he took control of the storm, and ended it before it began. The sprites shrieked in surprise, and in the back of his head, the storm sense whined at the loss. He didn’t care. Maybe he couldn’t help with Pitch, not really; but he could do this. He  _ must. _

‘So, clearly earlier didn’t teach you guys anything,’ Jack said conversationally, and the sprites shrieked again, turning to stare at him with their massive, sunken eyes.  _ Gollum,  _ he thought, studying them with a jaded eye.  _ They look like less slimy Gollums. _

‘How are you here?!’ the nearest sprite demanded, voice like the creaking of trees in high gales. ‘The Nightmare King said -’

‘The Nightmare King lies,’ Jack spat before he could think better of it. ‘What the fuck, guys? It’s been less than twenty-four hours. Do I need to fight you  _ again _ to get you to back off?’

The sprites leaned forward, towards him, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Please. There’d been nineteen of them in ‘82, and he’d won. He could do this all fucking day if he had to.

‘Hold,’ said the one who’d spoken before, visibly something of a leader. They looked at Jack and tilted their head, like an owl - no, like a hawk. ‘How did you survive? The  Nightmare King said you would corrupt from his blow. We saw you slink away.’

Jack bared his teeth, letting the grin through. ‘Friends in high places.’

‘You. Friends.’ The sprite scoffed. ‘Then why are you alone?’

Jack hid the flinch well, masking it with the way he swung the crook of his staff up to point at them. ‘Because they’re too smart to waste their time on me,’ he replied smoothly. ‘Unlike you jackasses.’

‘You have no friends,’ the sprite said, and Jack couldn’t figure out which was worse - the flat way they said it, or the way it was true. ‘We’ve assured that.’

Jack jerked. ‘What?’

‘It’s no matter to tell you now. Even if we don’t eat you,’ and at this, the sprite grinned, and there were so many teeth in their mouth, all needle thin, all tiny icicles. ‘The Nightmare King will come for you. He’s clever - so much more clever than any of you.’

‘I can see why  _ you’d _ think so,’ Jack replied on autopilot, and the sprite hissed.

‘Things like that made it easy,’ the sprite said, face twisted in distaste. ‘Mouthy. Annoying. Interfering. So few liked you, anyway. If any. Then, the Nightmare King. And you - interfering, frustrating - so easy to reduce. You keep us from our favourite treats.’

‘What?’ Jack repeated, because. No way. There was  _ no way  _ -

‘Oh, don’t misunderstand,’ the sprite said, grinning again. ‘Before, it was all you. You and your disgusting  _ hero complex,’ _ and it was said the same way someone might announce stepping in gum. ‘Protecting the  _ children,  _ so above yourself, like you were pretending to be a Guardian. You made it easy.’

Jack held still, because he hadn’t noticed, but now that it was in front of him, he could see it. After ‘68, it had gotten worse. More whispers. More threats. More outright attacks. And he’d just accepted it, because of course he had. It had just been more of the same.

Jack swallowed down the bile that wanted to come up at that thought. ‘Come on,’ he said, and his voice came out sounding precisely as bored as he’d hoped it would. ‘You’re going to tell me Tall, Dark, and Terrifying was fucking with me all the way back then? Not  _ actually _ a Guardian, you know. Pretty sure I’m small fry.’

‘You  _ interfered,’ _ the sprite said with relish. Jack privately thought that if so much hadn’t been on the line, he’d find it hilarious - turns out, villains genuinely monologue, if you get them going. ‘An unknown. Lone wolf, mad and unpredictable. Couldn’t have it.’

‘Okaaay,’ Jack said, drawing out the word and the disbelief both.  _ Come on,  _ he thought.  _ A little more. Tell me what you know. _

‘You do not believe,’ the sprite said. ‘How appropriate.’

Jack bared his teeth again, and almost took a step forward before he remembered himself. ‘Sorry,’ he snapped. ‘Sort of hard to think little ol’ me fucked up some big grand scheme.’

‘You did,’ the sprite hissed. ‘First, the rabbit, then the wizard. The fairy, then the star. He had a plan, and you  _ wrecked  _ it.’

‘What kind of plan would that even be? Make it easier for him to pop out and shout ‘boo’ at some kids?’ Jack snorted.

‘Destroy them,’ the sprite said, savage glee in every line of their face. ‘All of them. Ruin Easter, destroy their hope. He whispers in the ears of children and their parents, and so palls the wonder of Christmas. He turns the golden dreams to nightmares. And now - he’s stolen the memories. Locked them away in his caves and his shadows. Children everywhere lose their belief in the Tooth Fairy as we speak.’

Jack recoiled, but the movement wasn’t just in horror (though man oh man, was that there): it was to mask the smile that almost broke through his control. Ha. Villains monologuing. Fish in a barrel came to mind.

‘Thanks, Sparkly,’ he said, giving up on hiding his mirth. The sprite blinked, confused, their minions crowding near. ‘You’ve been very helpful. I’ll make sure to remember your face, give you something  _ real _ nice when this is all over.’

The sprite laughed, but there was a tremor that hadn’t been there before. ‘You think we will let you leave?’

Jack grinned widely. ‘Think you can catch me?’

The Wind snapped him up, flinging him skyward and knocking the sprites over like lawn chairs in a gale. He didn’t bother looking back.

Again, he found himself in between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand - oh, man. He’d ran. He’d ran from Pitch Black, from the Guardians, despite having said he would help. Which was  _ not cool. _ He’d go so far as to say it was an asshole move. He couldn’t imagine how disappointed Bunny had to be - he’d  _ defended _ Jack from his real friends, and Jack had paid him back for his help by running off at the first sign of danger. Guilt and shame were twinned in Jack’s chest, made of the same substance but wearing different faces; when he thought about returning, about facing them again, it made his stomach writhe.

On the other. This was one of those  _ things.  _ The things where it wasn’t really a choice. Because regardless of how Jack felt, he now had valuable information - a better idea of Pitch’s angle, and judging from Pitch’s performance at Tooth Palace, he was good at talking shit without giving anything away. And it wasn’t about Jack, anymore, if it ever had been. Now, it was about the kids. About Easter, still two days away (and god, even the timing had to have been on purpose). Jack wasn’t the smartest person on the planet, he knew that: hard to be, when you couldn’t remember anything about yourself up to a certain point, and all of your knowledge was gleaned from pop culture and books that you’d taught yourself to read. But he knew an endgame move when he saw it, the way someone moved before a killing blow, and the Guardians hadn’t even known they’d been playing.

If this information could save them - could save the first person in some two hundred years who’d listened to Jack, could save the kids Jack was so fond of - then he just had to suck it up. This was more important.

‘Wind,’ he said, and she bounced him higher in answer; from the way they were still without pursuit, Jack figured she’d knocked the wind out of them. Ha. ‘Can you find the Guardians?’

The Wind was good with places, and not so good with people. Neither of them had reason to interact with them all that much, or at least not people who they  _ wanted _ to interact with. So Jack wasn’t even  _ sure _ she could track people, much less people like the Guardians.

She began to drift back in the direction of Burgess, before speeding up; Jack held on, uncertain of where she would take him, steeling himself for the inevitable.

It wasn’t far. He knew this house, he saw as the Wind set him in one of the nearby trees - had walked along its fence only a handful of hours past, had played with this kid (until the lure of the Tooth Fairy had drawn him away.) Jaime something-or-other. Good kid, believed in just about anything.

Through the window, Jack could see the Guardians - and what the hell they were doing here, in a kid’s room, he didn’t know. North looked like he’d had a rough night so far, soot-stained and beard dusty; he was smiling, but the lines on his face were tight. Jack still wasn’t sure what to think about him, but then, everyone had assumed the worst, and from the sound of things, that hadn’t been an accident. Jack wasn’t ready to forgive him, but could understand a little better.

Tooth was hovering nearby, and she looked alright, if her belief base beginning to weaken; her feathers were drooping, a bit, but she looked otherwise okay. He wondered where Baby Tooth had gone, because he didn’t see her. Then again, she was very small.

Beside them both, shoulders hunched tightly up, was Bunny. And wow, Jack had thought North had looked a mess. Bunny’s ears were rigid antennae, straight back from his head, swivelling in all directions without pause or any apparent pattern. His fur seemed to stand a little farther out than usual, making him look larger in some subtle way, and his paws were visibly incapable of holding still, clenching and unclenching into tight fists.

Jack did not want to go in there. He did not. There was no part of him that wanted to go in and face that shame. But he had to, and he  _ knew _ he had to, and so he jumped down from the tree onto the fence -

Only to topple backwards in surprise when Sandy dropped down in front of him.

Jack swore loudly, then clapped a hand over his mouth in horror; oh, no. He might as well have announced his presence with megaphones and confetti cannons.

He scrambled up onto the fence again, and once crouched down he was of a height with the floating Sandman. He held still for a moment, but there was no movement from the house (not that he’d expected any of the  _ humans _ inside to hear him), and after a minute relaxed with a near silent woosh of breath when no one burst out and started shouting. Sandy had waited, head cocked to the side, as if listening as well.

‘What the hell?’ Jack said, voice so hushed he almost couldn’t hear it. ‘We need to get you bells. Lots of jangly bells, seriously.’

Sandy shrugged, and like he had when speaking to Bunny before, a number of symbols appeared above his head, albeit much slower.

Jack had taught himself to read, but this was different - in some ways easier, in some ways harder. Some kind of line, and a little figure that fell off it, followed by an equal armed cross and a question mark.

‘Are you - asking if I’m okay?’ Jack asked, confused. Why would Sandy care?

Sandy nodded anyway, and repeated the question, the little symbols puffing into life more forcefully, as if in emphasis.

‘Uh - yeah, yeah, I’m okay.’ Jack swallowed, hard. ‘Look, um. If I - if I try to talk to them, what are the chances that I’ll, you know.’

Sandy tilted his head again and shook his head; he didn’t understand.

‘Okay, uh. I - kind of ran out on you guys. When I’d said I’d help. So, uh, I’m sorry, but I know something the others need to know, and I’d really like not to end up mincemeat for trying to talk to them? Only, North’s got swords, and -’

Sandy’s eyes widened, and he shook his head hard, a golden exclamation point flaring to life above him. Jack winced.

‘That bad, huh?’

Sandy shook his head again, looking more horrified than before, and a few more symbols appeared: a snowflake, a candy cane, and a sword. The sword went to swing at the snowflake, and dissolved into dust before it could.

Jack sighed. ‘That’s nice, Sandy, but I’m pretty sure North could kill me if he wanted. I couldn’t even -’

Sandy shook his head  _ again,  _ and his face was so sad, Jack shut up. What had he said, to make the (man? He was made out of sand, did that count? Or was he something else?) look like that?

‘I’m sorry,’ Jack said, holding up a hand. ‘I, uh, don’t think we’re understanding each other.’

Sandy signed the three symbols from before, but this time, before the sword could get near the snowflake, the candy cane slid in the way, and kept the sword from falling.

‘Wait. I’m still not getting it,’ Jack said, frowning at the symbols. ‘Are you saying - what, North isn’t going to hurt me?’

Sandy nodded at last, looking relieved.

Jack blinked. ‘Uh. I’d be pretty mad, if I’d run off on… me. Okay, that didn’t make sense. But, you know, point still stands. How mad are they? Are you?’

Sandy shook his head twice, once for each question. Jack’s eyebrows rose.

‘They’re… not mad,’ he tried. Sandy nodded again. ‘At all?’ Another nod. ‘Okay, what’s the deal?’ Jack said, starting to get frustrated. ‘Are you just - I don’t know, trying to make me feel better? Because it’s not working.’

Sandy looked as confused as Jack felt. He signed a sword again, then a question mark.

‘Because I ran off?’ Jack guessed  _ why would we be mad? _ as to the question. ‘I mean - god. I just ran off. And Bunny -’ He clicked his mouth shut. It didn’t matter. He was getting off track. ‘Never mind,’ he said to Sandy’s question mark. ‘Look, I’ve got to talk to you all, there’s some stuff you need to know. And -’

In the corner of his eye. A dark wisp, darting around the edge of the house. Both he and Sandy turned at the same time, catching sight, but then it was gone.

‘You saw that?’ Jack asked.

Sandy shrugged, looking troubled. He tilted his head in the direction Jack had thought it had gone, and signed another question mark.

‘What, you think we should follow it?’ Jack bit his lip. ‘What about - what about the others?’

Sandy gave him a look that said, quite plainly, that he knew that Jack didn’t want to see them just yet, and that he was trying to give him a way out. Jack felt a swell of affection, which was kind of weird, since they’d only just met. But, hey, friend of a friend is my friend, or something like that. And - it was nice. That Sandy was doing that.

‘Okay,’ Jack said, and stood. Inside the room, through the window, Jack thought he saw Bunny’s ears twitch in his direction, and swore under his breath. ‘Yeah, let’s go,’ he said, and gestured for Sandy to take the lead. He flew after Sandy, and hoped that when he came back, Sandy would be right.

  
  


Aster straightened up abruptly, ears swivelling towards the window, at the sound a quick, muffled swear.

Tooth paused, her hand beneath the little boy’s pillow, and looked to him. ‘Bunny?’ she whispered. ‘What is it? Do you hear something?’

Aster held up a finger, listening closely; they stood in a kid’s bedroom, having met up after completing their runs. Nick had suggested that  _ they _ gather the teeth, which had resulted in one of the stranger nights of Aster’s life. He’d always known, of course, that Tooth needed the fairies just to keep up with the staggering number of tinlids who lost their chompers in a day; but it was very different, knowing a thing, and experiencing that thing yourself. He was good at this sort of thing - hundreds of years spent hiding googs in plain sight made the job easier, and his speed did him some good. It would have been fun in almost any other circumstance, competing against these three equals, three  _ friends, _ whom he didn’t see often enough (and he’d never realised that he’d missed them, not in all of the years and decades and centuries they’d been doing this. It was startling, for a number of reasons.)

Nothing short of a miracle could have dispelled the cloud that hung over them, though, the knowledge that this was  _ necessary,  _ that without this stopgap measure Tooth could very well disappear forever. And, though perhaps worse for Aster than for anyone else, there was Jack’s disappearance.

The others cared - of course they did. The bloke had dropped straight off one of the ledges, and it had been so long since Aster had seen Pitch, had forgotten the way he could creep like smoke inside of built up walls and bravery and twist everything up. He’d gone straight for Jack’s throat, each word ringing through with the sick, metallic sound of Fear, and Aster had been so focussed on tracking him… There was a limit to Pitch’s power, as there was to everything. Pitch had to know you, had to have an in, and unless you could be unafraid of your own fear, he had you. Aster couldn’t blame Jack for getting the hell out the way while he still could (though he’d fair thought his heart had stopped when Jack had dropped like a stone, only to have it restart when he saw the spot of blue streaking away. He just hoped Jack could fly fast and far enough, if they couldn’t put Pitch down again.)

Nick feared for the bloke now, Aster could tell. Nick always had felt a soft spot for people who did the right thing. Aster was pretty sure it was the only reason why they’d become friends at all, despite the way they butted heads: at the core of them was a similar drive. And like Aster had in the years past, Nick recognised a kindred soul.

Tooth worried, too. He’d saved one of her fairies - the only fairy to be saved at all. Tooth wasn’t nearly as forgiving or as gentle as her appearance would lead one to believe; she’d always been bedrock beneath her feathers and delicate wings, and as protective as a mother bear. If she’d spent all this time thinking Jack had attempted to mess with Aster’s holiday, she wouldn’t let that go easily, even faced with the fact that it was untrue. 

But kindness - that, Tooth understood. And Jack had no other reason for what he’d done, leaping as he had without thought to his injuries or the danger or his own discomfort with the nightmares, catching the tiny fairy and cradling her close. Tooth could forget past, untrue hurts for a simple, true-hearted kindness.

Sandy, keeping watch outside for nightmares, was as ever harder to read. That said, Aster could see that Sandy disapproved of the way Jack had been treated, and Aster had not missed the way Sandy had hesitated before agreeing to helping with the teeth - no more than a split second, not enough for Nick or Tooth to notice. Aster knew, because he’d had the same urge he could see warring in Sandy.

He had his duties, but god, if he’d had a choice, he would have torn after Jack if he could. He wasn’t in  _ danger,  _ the same way Aster was used to thinking about others; he’d seen for himself how Jack handled himself, and surviving a scape-up with Pitch the way he had was more of a testament to his strength than most anyone else would be able to tell. That didn’t mean he wasn’t  _ vulnerable.  _ Aster didn’t know Pitch’s angle, yet, but it would have taken a fool not to notice how focussed Pitch had been on Jack’s presence, and how smug he was the second Jack fled. There  _ was _ an angle here. Aster would find it.

But at this moment, he was just relieved, because that was  _ definitely _ Jack’s voice he could hear through the window. He had to strain, through the ambient noise of streets and the house’s electrical hum, and Jack’s own whispering, but he could see him in his peripheral vision, and he felt his spine relax.

‘He’s here,’ He murmured, barely moving his lips. ‘He’s - Sandy’s talking to him.’

‘Can you hear him? Is he alright?’ Tooth said, zooming away from the boy, tooth clutched in hand. ‘Oh, goodness, the poor dear.’

‘Not more than a few hours past, ye were ready to spike him,’ Aster reminded her, ears tilted. He couldn’t make out the words, but he could hear tone, and it was nervous, guilty, pained. He fought to hold still. That tone did no one any good, but appearing from nowhere could do so much worse.

‘That was before he saved my fairy,’ she replied flatly, confirming Aster’s earlier thoughts.

‘Hush, or ye’ll wake the kid,’ Aster warned, listening harder. Jack’s voice was a little louder now, as if he was forgetting to whisper as he was going; words were becoming clearer.

‘...I don’t know, trying to… feel better?’ Jack’s voice had gone a little jagged. ‘Because it’s not working.’

Silence, whilst Sandy answered; Aster wanted to go to the window, try and see what was being said, but didn’t dare. Any quick movements might wake the child in the bed, or spook Jack off again, and neither would have good consequences.

‘Because I ran off?’ Jack said in response to whatever Sandy had said, and he sounded so  _ angry  _ with himself. Aster clenched his jaw, and forced himself to hold still.

‘Bunny?’

‘Hush, Nick,’ Aster bit out.

‘- god. I just ran off. And Bunny -’ Aster’s heart skipped a beat, but nothing followed for a long second. Stars and suns, did Jack think - of course he did, Aster thought with a slow, sick feeling. Jack wouldn’t know about Pitch’s Fear, the way Aster understood it. He would blame himself. Aster couldn’t say he knew Jack well (he  _ knew _ he didn’t, they hadn’t spent more than a few hours together over the course of the last four or more decades), but he could extrapolate from what he  _ had _ seen, and self-blame was probably the least of what Jack had been thinking.

‘Look,’ Jack said, voice a little clearer as he grew more agitated. ‘I’ve got to talk to you all, there’s some stuff you need to know, and -’

It cut off again, and, almost too hushed for Aster to make out,

‘You saw that?’

Aster tensed.

‘’Bunny, what’s going on?’ Tooth demanded, a little louder. And then, a growl broke the still night air.

All of Aster’s fur stood up on end, and his ears twitched longingly in the direction of the window before snapping up into high alert. He knew that sound.

‘Starlight and darkshine,’ he bit out under his breath, and held very still. ‘I hate dogs, why, for the love of all the -’

None of them had noticed it, sleeping still as the grave beside the bed; Tooth had approached from the other side, and Aster and Nick had been quiet, eager to keep from waking the tyke in the bed. Now, though, the dog (and it was a greyhound, of course it was) was up and growling lowly at the three of them.

The kid, woken by the noise, reached over sleepily and patted at the dog’s head. ‘Hush, Abbie,’ he said, ‘or you’ll scare off the… the…’

The kid’s eyes widened slowly, and Aster knew they were made.

‘The Tooth Fairy,’ the kid whispered, staring at Tooth. His eyes darted around, landing on Nick and Aster. ‘Santa Claus? The  _ Easter Bunny?’ _

‘Ah - yes! Yep!’ Tooth said, eyes frantically wide and a smile plastered on her face. ‘That’s us!’

Aster wished that he’d been on watch, instead of Sandy; not just because it was  _ Sandy  _ Jack was speaking to right now (and that wasn’t - what was that bizarre twinge? Bloody oath, that was ridiculous, he wasn’t  _ jealous  _ -) but because Sandy could have put the kid to sleep in a trice. Not to mention the dog. Would have been  _ real _ helpful right about now.

‘We - er - wanted to surprise you! But you weren’t supposed to wake up -’ Tooth said, gesticulating wildly. Baby Tooth, who’d been all but buried amongst Tooth’s feathers since Tooth Palace, peeked up and out, and darted out - towards  _ Aster,  _ of all things. The dog, who’d been growling at them all equally, followed the sudden movement, and her eyes narrowed.

‘Abbie, no,’ the kid said, tugging on her collar. ‘That’s the  _ Easter Bunny,  _ you can’t -’

Nick began to chuckle, and Aster gave him a sidelong, betrayed glance. ‘Rabbit man is rabbit man, no?’ he said, and Aster could have bit him right then, honestly.

‘Look, ye great big chook -’ he said, turning to wallop him a good one, but the movement made the dog lunge, and it was only the kid hanging off the dog’s neck that kept the dog from making more than a leap off the floor onto the bed. Aster scrambled backward (starlight, what the hell kind of dog had  _ teeth like that)  _ and stumbled into North, who banged backward into the dresser, sending things thumping.

‘Abbie,  _ no!’  _ The kid commanded, and she settled a bit, but Aster knew a predator sizing up prey when he saw one.

The door opened, and Aster froze -  _ poor kid, _ he had time to think.  _ Oldie’s gonna walk in and think he went round the bend, yelling at air - _

Then, to Aster’s horror, in toddled a right anklebiter, hair in many-layered disarray. Self-hairdresser, this one, and she was clutching a blanket close, yawning widely.

She began to make some kind of questioning noise, then paused. ‘Who you?’ she asked, looking at Nick first - he did look the most human of them, for sure - then at Tooth, then at Aster. Here, her little eyes lit up, and she rushed over, nearly tripping over her own feet. ‘Bunny! Bunny! Hop, hop, hop!’

‘Sophie, hold on -’ the kid said, reaching out for her, but unfortunately that left the dog free.

She leapt up to her feet, and Aster dove to the right, behind Nick (pride was for people  _ not about to be mauled) _ .

‘Doggy, no!’ Sophie scolded, and there was silence for a moment. When Aster dared peer out, the dog had laid down, docile as a lamb and gazing at Sophie with all of the adoration in the world as she put her plump little fists on her hips. ‘No eat bunny!’

Nick started chuckling again, and Aster had a hell of a time keeping from jobbing him in the jaw.

‘Oh, no,’ Tooth said, and Aster looked over to see her staring out the window. The window that he could no longer see Jack or Sandy through. ‘They’re gone!’

Aster bit his tongue to keep from swearing loudly. ‘We have to go, now,’ he said sharply. ‘Jack was -’

‘Who was out there? I can help you find them!’

Aster turned to the kid, who was already scrambling out of the bed and flashlight in hand. ‘Oi, no - hey, hey!’ he said, striding around the dog, who bared her teeth but didn’t move. ‘No, ye need to stay here - Jaime,’ he said, seeing the name on a backpack in the corner of the room and hoping it was right. He didn’t have time anymore to memorise the kids’ names, and he didn’t have the telepathic network (through the fairies) that Tooth did.

The kid’s eyes widened. Bingo. ‘Why?’ he asked, the same way all kids did. Aster had missed this, interacting with the kids directly, even if at the moment it wasn’t exactly helping him out.

‘Here, I’m not going to lie to ye,’ Aster said, crouching down to be of an eye level with the tinlid. ‘I’ve got friends out there I’m very worried about, and might be in trouble. We’ve got to go after them, and we can’t do that if we’re watching out for ye, too, yeah?’

Jaime deflated a little. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked, clutching his flashlight close. ‘I can help! I know Burgess like the back of my hand -’

‘So do I,’ Aster said, and patted Jaime’s shoulder. ‘Been hiding yer eggs for years, yeah?’ he grinned. ‘Sides, ye’ve gotta stay here, keep Abbie from hunting me down.’

Jaime nodded, still looking disappointed, but that was alright; he’d be safe.

‘Bunny go ‘way?’

Aster turned without rising, back towards Nick, and the anklebiter’s lip was wobbling. ‘Sophie, yeah?’ he said, and she nodded. ‘I’ll be back on Sunday, no worries. Ye just get some sleep.’

Sophie scowled, but she nodded reluctantly. She’d dropped her blanket, and she gathered it up, along with what looked like half the knickknacks Nick had accidentally swept off the dresser, and toddled back out of the room.

‘What are you going to do?’ Jaime asked, brown eyes determined as he watched them. ‘Can you tell me who’s in trouble? I can keep it secret, promise!’

‘Other friends like us, and that’s all ye’ll get,’ Aster said firmly. ‘Bed. Or don’t ye want to see what the Tooth Fairy left ye?’ he added, sly.

Jaime’s eyes widened, and he dove for his pillow. The second his eyes were distracted, Aster opened a tunnel and dropped into it, trusting Tooth and Nick to disappear just as quick.

He took a quick second to compose himself (strewth, he hated dogs, never once made a goog hunt easy) and popped back up in the backyard, not a metre from where Jack had been crouched only minutes past.

‘Bunny?’ Tooth said, darting down. ‘Thank goodness! You handled that very well. I panicked, I’m so sorry, I -’

‘Don’t be,’ Aster replied gently. ‘Starlight, Tooth, when was the last time any of us was caught? No shame in it.’

‘Two hundred fifty nine years past,’ Tooth admitted. ‘You?’

Aster grinned wryly. ‘I went looking for the tot, in me defence,’ he said. ‘Forty-four, almost on the nose.’

‘Forty - ‘68?’ she said, too sharp as ever.

‘Aye,’ Aster admitted. ‘Girl was lost in the blizzard. Jack couldn’t find her, and even if he could…’

‘She couldn’t see him,’ Tooth finished, horrified. ‘Oh, my goodness.’ She looked off to the right, towards the house, as Nick strode over at last. ‘We’ve all terribly misjudged him, haven’t we?’

Aster rolled his eyes. He’d say that she had the gift of stating the obvious, but he knew she never said it for her own benefit. It was her way of acknowledging reality, and letting others know that she had done so.

‘He is good boy,’ Nick agreed. ‘But where he has gone with Sandy, I do not know.’

Aster went to reply, to relate the brief sentence he’d heard - Jack had learned something, from what he’d heard, and returned to tell them. Still doing the right thing, even when he had every right to fly for the hills. Like it had waited for him to begin speaking, though, something caught his eye - a dark curl of a shape streaking across the sky.

‘Tooth,’ he said, and she snapped to attention. ‘Did ye see that?’

‘Still got eyes on it,’ she replied, words quick and light, saving breath. Her wings trembled.

‘Let’s move,’ he said, but his friends were moving before he’d finished the first word. So was he, and had no attention to spare it.

‘Nightmare sand?’ Nick shouted to him from the roofs, Aster keeping to the clear and wider streets.

‘From what I can see,’ Aster replied, and darted around a poorly parked truck when he saw another wisp. ‘On yer seven, move it -’

It was a chase, and Aster was no fool; he was not the hunter, here. He was being guided, chivvied,  _ herded _ towards a point, and perhaps the others couldn’t hear it yet, or Tooth hadn’t caught sight from her vantage point in the sky, but Aster knew the shushing noises now, the way they differed from Sandy’s. Sandy’s sand  _ crackled,  _ cheerful and bright, jostling together in its hurry to become good dreams. This sand slithered and snapped, hissing, and he could hear its nexus at last.

He broke from the winding path the sand was attempting to lead him on and shot straight towards it, only to see bright flashes of light at the same time as Tooth called down, ‘Sighted! Up, the roofs, up - Nick, where’s the sleigh -’

Aster didn’t care, sprinting flat out now, and he leapt up, up, onto the roofs. He didn’t see Nick, who must’ve gone for the sleigh, but Tooth dropped down to his level, the two of them streaking towards the scene.

‘Andromeda’s light,’ he whispered beneath his breath, because when Jack had said  _ a giant scythe-thing,  _ Aster hadn’t realised it was made of the  _ sand.  _ It clashed and broke against Sandy’s, glittering black against defiant gold, and it was breathtaking. It had been a very long time since Aster had seen Sandy in full battle mode, sweet and soft face like stone, and it hastened his steps.

Behind Sandy stood Jack, face curved into a startlingly cheerful smile, and his staff moved like it was an extension of his body, snapping and cracking against the nightmares that thought they could worry against Sandy’s blindspots. It was a wild style, Aster catalogued in the scant seconds before he would arrive, but not an uncalculated one; each strike moved fluidly into the next, from the sharp jab of the uncurved end into a throat, to the twist of the crook behind a long, equine-like leg and snapping left to send it stumbling into its neighbour, opening the path for a solid crack across a snapping jaw. Jack knew, at all times, where his own body and staff began and ended, and dodged like he’d simply never been in the way at all, laughing like shattering ice at their efforts.

There was no time to formulate more than the basest of plans, and trust that his friends would be able to fend for themselves; Aster reached back, snagged the end of a boomerang, and threw. It struck hard the side of one of the nightmares that was about to chomp down on Jack’s arm, and sent it staggering before whipping back around, curved wood whistling back towards Aster. Jack’s head whipped around, eyes startled, but the moment didn’t cost him more than a second of concentration; Aster wondered in the distant, closed off part of himself that always remained apart whilst fighting, how many times Jack had fought against these kind of numbers, to move so swiftly from surprise into the same splintered laughter from before, batting aside one nightmare to strike another.

Pitch, striking still at the unfaltering swirls of golden sand, snarled aloud. The nightmares returned the sound with a braying screech that pierced Aster’s ears, nearly making him fumble his next throw. As one great mass, they began to rise, snapping at Jack and Sandy’s feet, forcing them into the air to avoid the worst of it. Aster cursed loudly as they picked up speed, and he leapt up, bouncing off of flanks and shifting withers, moving before any of the teeth could sink beneath thick fur; he had to keep up, or they would get away, take the arena to the sky, where Aster was worse than useless. Even if he shifted into a flight-capable shape, it had been so long since he’d bothered, and he’d be more of a liability than an asset. Up he went, and up, following the every rocketing spire of nightmare and dream sand, trying to keep pace and knowing he was failing.

‘Bunny! Left!’

Nick’s voice was full of command, and Aster trusted it, leaping to the left and away from the sands. For a long, terrifying second, he could see the world below, the town not so small as to be unrecognisable but far enough down that it took his breath away, and then the sturdy wood of the sleigh was beneath his paws, and his claws gouged in, anchoring him. He’d never been so happy to see the damned thing in his life.

‘Up!’ Aster shouted, and Nick nodded, urging the sleigh higher and higher. Tooth sprang past them, wings invisible in their speed, and violet sparks screamed in her wake, scattering and spraying dark sand like ocean waves.The sleigh was almost vertical, and if Aster was thinking clearly, he’d be all but whimpering. It didn’t matter.

They crested and levelled at last, the great disc of black sand just below the rails of the sleigh, and Aster paused - was there more of it than there had been before?

‘Sandy!  _ No!’ _

Aster’s gaze snapped to the centre, drawn by Jack’s hoarse shout, and everything - stopped.

Sandy was staring down at his own torso, an almost politely confused look on his face when he found the long tip of Pitch’s curved blade projecting from his body. He looked up from it, from the way that the sand of his body was beginning to darken, and over to Jack.

Jack’s face was twisted, wide eyed with horror, and a nightmare could have come along and swallowed him whole for all the attention he paid.

Sandy smiled, and it was apologetic. A faint wisp of golden sand puffed up over his head, and Aster choked; Jack couldn’t know what it meant. None of them would - he’d never shown anyone the language that Sandy spoke in now. He hadn’t needed to show Sandy; Sandy would have remembered from his own travels amongst the stars.

_ Goodbye, _ it said in the flat, oval disc, missing its middle, and the black swept up and swallowed him whole.

‘No!’ Jack shouted again, reaching out, and his hands closed on nothing.

Aster felt sick. Sandy was - he -

In the same way the dog’s growl had sent all the fur on his body standing straight up, so too did the snarl Jack spat out in the next second.

Gone was the laughter and the wry smile as he’d fought, almost companionably, at Sandy’s side; Jack leapt forward, propelled by a strong northern gust, and blue light followed him like sparks, like a comet’s tail. Pitch had opened his mouth, visibly about to make one of his cruel, witty remarks, but he was forced to dodge back under a vicious swipe of Jack’s staff.

‘Get us nearer!’ Aster shouted at Nick, and Nick was already moving, massive hands pale where they gripped the reins. The black sand was swirling, titanic thunderheads of stolen power and death, and were arching up after their new master and the fury that followed him.

Aster was straining forward, like that would get him nearer faster, Tooth landing beside him in the sleigh, but the distance was growing.

‘No, no, no,’ Aster muttered under his breath, because Jack wouldn’t be able to see the full scope of it, but the sand was gathering behind Pitch, and if it retained half of the power it had wielded under Sandy’s command, he couldn’t stand up to that, not alone. ‘Faster, c’mon,  _ faster  _ -’

All of the sand spiked out at once, closing in on Jack like teeth in the world’s largest jaw, and Aster couldn’t help the cry that leapt from his lips, convinced he would see not one, but two friends die tonight.

Blue light exploded outward, bright as the sun in the full strength of day, and Aster shielded his eyes, squinting as best he could.

The black sand was frozen, immobile, and stopped feet from Jack’s body. But despite the stunned look on Pitch’s face - the near  _ fear _ \- Jack was still. Then, he began to tumble.

Aster had seen the way he fell through the air when he’d jumped up for Baby Tooth, all unconscious grace and innate knowledge of where his body had to be to land precisely as he should. This was not that. There was no control in the limbs, in the spin - this was an unconscious body, and Aster didn’t think, just coiled the muscles in his legs and  _ leapt. _

Jack landed in his arms in the worst possible way, elbow bashing into Aster’s skull, legs tangled and twisted painfully, but Aster caught him and held on, curving his own body over and placing a barrier between Jack and Pitch, in the only protection he had to give.

The sleigh was there, Nick’s flying skills precisely controlled. In the part of his mind that remained impartial, Aster noted to give him shit later; he’d _ known _ the flight to Tooth Palace was meant to fuck with him.

At the moment, he just landed heavily, legs crumpling beneath him, but keeping Jack up from the hard wood until he had his balance. Tooth was there instantly, taking some of the weight, and they laid him out on the bench.

‘Get us to the Pole, Nick,’ Tooth called, but the sleigh was already soaring away, Nick throwing a snowglobe almost faster than she could speak. It opened and closed in a span of time that could have been a heartbeat or an entire minute; Aster had no idea.

His paws skimmed over Jack’s face, checking for temperature, for lumps or broken bones. Jack’s eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. He was good and out.

They landed with a great thump, and there was a yeti arm in his field of vision, reaching for Jack. Aster smacked the arm away, snarling.

‘Bunny!’

He looked up at Tooth, who looked stunned. ‘’They just want to help!’ she said, then her voice moved from scolding to gentle. ‘Phil’s just going to bring him back to that room you were in before. Somewhere familiar for when he wakes up.’

‘I can -’

‘We need to talk,’ she insisted, placing her tiny hand on his paw. ‘And we need - Sandy deserves a - a ceremony. It will have to be brief,’ she said, pain in her eyes. ‘But he can’t be forgotten.’

Aster swallowed, forced himself to relax a bit. ‘Alright,’ he said, and her grip on his hand, which had become a tight, uncomfortable pinch, loosened. ‘Yeah. We - I just -’

‘He is friend, and you are worried,’ Nick said, having come around to the side of the sleigh. ‘You are right to be worried. But we are Guardians. We must do what we must, and Pitch must be stopped.’

Aster nodded. Still, it was a struggle to let Jack out of his sight, to allow the yetis to bear him away. It seemed as though all the universe intended to make Aster watch him disappear. Aster’s instinct now was to have everyone within his sight, but his duty stood in the way once more, and never in all the years since he’d taken the mantle up had he resented it more.

He packed those emotions away, tucked them beside the grief and fury from Sandy’s death, and mentally labelled them as  _ to deal with later.  _ He closed his eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out.

‘Alright,’ he said, and opened his eyes. ‘First, Sandy. Then we plan.’

Nick and Tooth were watching him, identical expressions of sympathy and approval on their faces, and Aster hadn’t known how much he’d needed that until he’d had it. He’d lost one friend - his oldest friend, the only other remnant from the Golden Age to stay with him.

He’d not lose what he still had, not if he could help it.

  
  


Jack woke slowly, like he was swimming against a current of mud, but once the process was started, he couldn’t stop.

He opened his eyes into a dim room, and for a blissful second, he couldn’t recall why he was here. The ceiling was familiar, in the way that something recently but briefly seen is so; he considered it in the bit of sleep-haze that still clouded his vision.

Jack didn’t tend to spend a lot of time sleeping. Wasn’t really safe, with most of the world on his ass, but beyond that, he didn’t  _ like _ to sleep all that much. He could never remember his dreams, no matter how much he wanted to, and it always felt like he’d lost something when he did wake up. He didn’t really suffer from only sleeping once a month, or so, and figured it was just a spirit thing. Certainly, he didn’t catch many other spirits sleeping out in the open, though if that was because he was the only one who didn’t sleep in a specific, safe place, or if they slept as little as he did, was anyone’s guess.

When he did wake up, he always did the same thing, running through the same basic information, reminding himself of who he was.

_ I’m Jack Frost, _ he thought, casting his gaze from the centre of the ceiling towards the crown moulding that ran the seam of the wall. In his left hand was the familiar wood of his crook.  _ I know, because the Moon told me so.  _ Through the window that he found on the wall, he saw a vast, dark sky, the stars drowned out by the brilliance of the full Moon. He resisted the urge to stick his tongue out.  _ He didn’t tell me anything else, though. _

He paused, the sight of the landscape finally registering, and a faint ringing sensation to the thought told him it wasn’t quite true.

Glacier-like cliffs and thick snow clicked into place in his head, and he sat up as a knife of memory twisted itself in his stomach. The Moon. The Guardians. Pitch Black.  _ Sandy. _

‘Oh, god,’ he whispered, and curled up, knees to his chest, one arm curled in place and one hand clasped over his mouth.

He’d failed. They’d fallen into the fight like they’d been doing it forever, and Sandy was so strong, it had surprised Jack like nothing else. Who could’ve guessed that behind the kindly face was a stone-cold bad ass? Not Jack, that’s for sure. Pitch kept trying to use the sand stuff to get at Sandy’s back, to try to get an advantage, and Jack had covered for him, and trusted Sandy to handle Pitch. He’d hoped the Guardians would show up quickly, and they had, Tooth’s hands like claws and North’s swords like silver light. Bunny’s boomerang had saved Jack a nasty bite, too, and probably a broken arm.

But he’d not even had time to say thanks, before the sand was at their feet. Then they were moving up, and Jack knew that was bad, knew they were caught between the hammer of Pitch Black and the anvil of black sand; Bunny had been chasing them up, but the sand was so fast, and Jack almost shouted when Bunny leapt, only to be caught by the sleigh.

And then -

‘Sandy,’ Jack whispered, and got to his feet. He could walk on snow and on ice, no problem, but somehow the tile beneath him felt cold.

He was at North’s Workshop, he could see that. It was the same room as before, but there was no one in it. He looked first for the tall ears, but then cut it out; Sandy had said no one was mad at him, but he’d just… he’d just failed to keep Sandy safe. He’d  _ killed the Sandman,  _ if not directly, then definitely through neglect. He’d let the sand creep up between them. He was responsible. Even if the Guardians, by some miracle, didn’t hate him now - well. He was doing a good enough job of it on his own.

He still needed to tell them what he’d learned, though. Even if it seemed pale and weak beside Sandy’s - beside Sandy’s death, they still needed to know. He’d have to tell them, no matter what, and then they could decide what they wanted to do.

He could never make up for what had happened. But he could make sure it didn’t happen to another one.

Resolve straightened his spine. Good; he’d need it.

He opened the door, and peered cautiously out of the hallway. It was dark, and no one was there; it was also very quiet, something that Jack didn’t suspect was the norm around here. He thought he could hear very faint sounds off to his right, though, and set off in that direction, staff in hand.

As he went, flickering light grew strong, guiding him through the twisting hallways, and he finally came out to a massive, wide-open space, and froze in place. Candles were lit everywhere, on every surface; the yetis were gathered up on the balconies, crowded together and solemn faced, and even the elves were muted. In the centre of the room, holding hands and heads bowed, were the Guardians.

Jack could recognise a funeral when he saw one.

He held so still, feeling out of place; he didn’t belong here. He was an intruder on their grief - their rightful grief, worth so much more than the jumbled tangle of pain and guilt in his chest, because they’d been Sandy’s friend. He’d only talked to Sandy for a few minutes. It wasn’t as important.

Jack flinched as Bunny’s ears tilted backwards, and his head turned; he stumbled backwards and fled back the way he’d come.

_ Stupid, stupid, _ he cursed himself, trying to keep his footsteps silent as he could.  _ Running away,  _ again _ , I’m always running away - fuck, could my timing have been worse? Right in on Sandy’s funeral, like the asshole I am - _

‘Frostbite, wait.’

Jack fell still involuntarily, just outside the door he’d emerged from. He had no choice - his muscles locked up on him, frozen with confusion and fear. He’d meant to go in, pretend he’d not emerged at all until they came for him. They would. They had to, they’d want answers. Hell, Jack wanted answers. He could have sat and waited, and thought about what he was going to say, not stare at the door unseeing, because he’d not heard Bunny following.

He forced his head to turn.

Bunny stood in the dim hallway, shadowed and still, paw held up before his chest as if he’d been reaching but thought better of it. The thought made Jack flinch, and Bunny must have seen it, because he stepped nearer. It wasn’t in Jack’s space yet, but he tensed anyway.

‘Why did ye run?’ Bunny asked bluntly, and in some ways that was a relief. It was familiar.

‘Which time?’ Jack replied in lieu of an answer, because he wasn’t sure which question was being asked. He hated how bitter he sounded, but couldn’t retract it or change it once it was in the air.

Bunny’s ears twitched; Jack couldn’t see his expression well, in the dim light, but thought that the new angle didn’t look aggressive. Which was - good. He thought.

‘What do ye mean?’ Bunny said slowly. ‘Just now - ah. Ye mean before.’

Jack shivered.

‘That wasn’t yer fault.’

Jack backed up outright, the words like cuts in his skin. ‘What?’

‘That wasn’t yer fault,’ Bunny repeated, the tone precisely the same as it was before: patient, calm. ‘Pitch Black - ye’ve never had to deal with him before. Ye wouldn’t know how he works. He meets ye once, and he - he knows yer fears, knows yer weaknesses.’ Bunny’s ears twitched again. ‘S’why he’s so bloody hard to keep down, to give ye the good oil.’

‘Is that supposed to be comforting?’ Jack asked after a moment. It came out harsher than he’d meant, but he couldn’t stop the words once they’d started. ‘That I’d been so scared, I fucking  _ ran?  _ I - I promised, and then Sandy -’

There was a quick jerk of Bunny’s frame, and Jack snapped his mouth closed, taking another step back, well out of range.

Bunny held very still after that, eyes firmly on Jack’s. Another moment passed.

‘I heard some of what ye said to him, in Burgess,’ Bunny said after a moment.

Jack relaxed, a little; Bunny was here after the information. Good. That was something Jack could deal with. ‘Yeah, I found out something. I was hoping to tell you all, but I guess that - that won’t be happening.’

Bunny didn’t move. ‘Why not?’

Jack blinked. ‘Uh. I’ll tell you?’

‘Why not the others?’

‘Because you can?’ Jack said, bewildered now. ‘That way they don’t have to see me.’

Bunny’s entire body was tense, Jack could see it, and he edged backwards once more.

‘Why do ye do that?’ Bunny burst out, words still soft, but loud in Jack’s ears. ‘I’m not going to  _ hit  _ ye, starlight and darkshine, Jack.’ 

Jack flinched. ‘I - I, uh. Sorry?’

It was just - he didn’t think Bunny would, was the thing. But he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t know what was going on, why Bunny was  _ acting like this,  _ when Jack had killed his  _ friend - _

‘Holy dooley.’

Jack realised with a nauseous wash of horror that all of that had been out loud.

‘Jack. Ye didn’t - that wasn’t yer fault, either.’

‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ Jack croaked out through a throat gone tight and dry.

‘What on me good green earth have people been saying?’ Bunny said, voice a low rumble of anger. ‘Why would ye think - how could ye think this kind of thing about yerself?’

‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ Jack repeated, trying to make it louder and firmer, but it went the other way instead, caught in his chest. Quieter, weaker. He hated it.

Bunny sighed, but it wasn’t an exasperated sound. Just very long, and very sad.

‘I know ye don’t. I know. But we’ve got to get some things straight, ye and I. Then we can not talk about it.’

‘I -’

‘Please.’

The word had a strange, rusty quality to it, almost as if Bunny didn’t say it very often. Jack didn’t think he did.

Jack hung his head. Well. At least he couldn’t run away from this.

‘First off - I’m not mad at ye,’ Bunny began, voice low, pitched soothingly. ‘None of this was yer fault. Ye’ve been thrown headfirst into this all, and that’s not on ye.

‘Second, I am  _ not _ going to hit ye. Alright?’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Jack said, when Bunny had been quiet a moment, clearly waiting for a moment.

‘I’m not,’ Bunny repeated. ‘Ye’re me  _ friend,  _ Jack.’

Jack kept looking at the floor, because he couldn’t  _ deal  _ with this, it was so much in so little time. The number of crazy, batshit insane things that had happened to him was way out of proportion to the number of hours that had gone by, and he knew it wasn’t going to get any easier, but  _ fuck _ if he wouldn’t give his right arm for some more time.

‘Third,’ Bunny continued, ‘Nick and Tooth aren’t going to do anything to ye, either. I know ye had a rough start with them - well, they had a rough start with ye,’ Bunny corrected himself, sounding wry. ‘But they don’t think badly of ye. They’re worried.’

‘What the hell for,’ Jack muttered, not quite able to keep the words in.

‘Well, ye did knock yerself out for two hours,’ Bunny said, ‘and held off Pitch again for the second time today.’

Jack looked up, startled, and saw that Bunny had edged nearer - still out of Jack’s personal space, but closing the distance Jack had created.

‘Ye’ve done more than just about anyone else today, and we went out and collected the teeth,’ Bunny said, and he stood tall, ears pitched forward, eyes bright and boring into Jack’s. ‘None of us blame ye, and none of us hate ye, and  _ none of us are going to hurt ye or ask ye to leave.’  _ He took a deep breath. ‘Nor will we make ye stay if ye don’t want to. But we could use yer help, if ye’re still willing to give it.’

Jack held very, very still, mind chasing open-ended questions like flakes of snow on the breeze. They didn’t - maybe Bunny was - but Bunny didn’t lie, Bunny had believed him, had followed him and said - and Sandy had -

Jack bowed his head again. ‘Okay. I - uh. I believe you.’

‘Do ye want to go?’ Bunny asked.

Jack shook his head. ‘No, I - I learned something while I was gone, you guys need to know -’

‘And after?’

‘What comes after?’ Jack asked helplessly, looking back up. ‘Sandy’s… Sandy’s gone.’

Bunny nodded, and Jack still couldn’t see his expression clearly, but thought he could make out the quirk of a sad smile. ‘He is,’ and the words were heavy in the air. ‘But Sandy wasn’t much one for wasting time, if he thought something needed doing. And I’ve got an idea.’

Jack summoned up a weak grin, the best he could do. ‘A plan, huh?  _ Now  _ I’m worried.’

‘Belt up,’ Bunny said, but it was goodnatured. ‘Come on. Let’s go talk to the others; ye’ll tell us what ye know, and I’ll tell ye lot me idea.’

Jack nodded, hands still tight on his staff, and opened his mouth to say something like  _ thank you  _ \- though, he wasn’t sure what he would have said, precisely. Just something that was like that.

Instead, a small buzzing sound filled the air, and a second later, Baby Tooth came barrelling around the corner, all but banging into Jack’s nose and almost poking his eye out in her haste.

Jack didn’t have time to panic, because she’d already begun chirping at him furiously, hugging his nose and poking his cheek alternately like she couldn’t decide which one was more important at the moment.

Jack gave in, and laughed.

‘Hey, Baby Tooth,’ he said, and she chirped louder. ‘What, did I worry you?’

A much louder, much more annoyed chirp, and Jack blinked. ‘Really? Come on, don’t pull my leg.’

She hugged his nose tightly, knocked her miniscule fist against his forehead, and then dropped down to sit in the fold of his hood, looking quite pleased with herself.

‘Found yerself another friend, then?’ Bunny asked, and when Jack looked over, he was shaking a little - from suppressed laughter, Jack realised. ‘Good, maybe ye’ll listen to this one.’

Jack stuck out his tongue. ‘Come on, I listen to you,’ he said, and when Bunny turned and started walking back the way they’d came, Jack followed.

‘Haven’t told ye what to do enough to be sure, mate,’ Bunny replied, and Jack paused at that.

Huh. They really hadn’t spent all that much time around one another, he knew.  _ Then why do I… _ he began to think, but then thought about it all. From the beginning, Bunny had been reserved, but he’d never been mean, the way so many other spirits were. He’d been neutral, and probably would have been friendly, if Jack hadn’t spent every second he was near him trying to get away before he could be. And in just the past day (two days? The count of hours was beyong Jack at the moment) he’d done more to earn Jack’s trust than had anyone else for the past three hundred years. Of course Jack trusted him. It was kind of silly to ask why, when he had the answers in front of him.

‘Frostbite?’

‘Yeah, I’m here,’ Jack said, shaking the thoughts away. He wanted more time to process it, but he knew that was something he just wasn’t going to get this time.

Bunny paused; they stood a hallway over from the big room where the ceremony had been held. Jack pulled to a stop next to him. ‘What’s up, Cottontail?’ he asked, just to see the way Bunny’s nose would twitch. He’d give just about anything for some normalcy right now.

Just as Jack had thought, there was the twitch. He smiled, relieved.

‘Can I…’ Bunny looked like he was wrestling with what he wanted to say. Jack, who had more experience than most with not knowing what to say, just let him figure it out. ‘It’s only - I, er. Suns and stars, there’s no good way to ask without sounding strange.’

‘Bunny?’ Jack prompted after another silent moment.

Bunny took a deep breath. ‘Can I give ye a hug?’ he asked, and his eyes settled on Jack’s.

Um. That was - well. That was a new one. ‘Uh,’ Jack said, feeling a bit like Bunny had punched him after all. ‘Why?’

Bunny’s ears ticked down a bit. ‘Ye don’t have to,’ he said, and his eyes slid away. ‘It’s just - it helps, sometimes. When ye’re grieving.’

The way Bunny was looking away, his ears slowly tightening to his skull, said a lot more than that. Jack wasn’t sure who Bunny was asking for, himself or for Jack, but it kind of looked like Bunny could have used a hug once upon a time, and didn’t exactly get one.

Jack didn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a hug, unless Baby Tooth hugging his nose counted. Which, he guessed it kind of did. The thought was there, anyway. Now that he thought about it, really had to think about it, he didn’t he’d  _ ever _ had one. Which sounded really awful, when put that way.

‘I, uh,’ Jack began, and wasn’t sure how to continue.

‘S’fine, ye don’t have to -’

‘No, I want -’

They tripped over each other’s words and stumbled to a halt, staring at each other. Jack recovered first, and blurted out,

‘I want one, but I don’t know how.’

Oh, god.

Bunny’s eyes were wide, and Jack felt - ashamed, almost, pinned under his gaze and squirming.

‘It’s not like that,’ Jack added, oh god why was he talking, he was making it worse, like  _ what,  _ anyway, ‘it’s just I don’t think I’ve had one,’  _ that’s so much worse stop talking Jack,  _ ‘and, uh, wow, we should go talk to the others -’

Earlier in the day, Bunny had grabbed him out of the air and carried him into the Workshop. Jack hadn’t even thought of that, thought of someone carrying him - it had just made sense to ride on the Wind, because there hadn’t really been another option. Not in Jack’s brain, anyway. Then Bunny had grabbed him, and marched in, and wrapped up wounds and made sure he was okay and  _ cared,  _ and that was so weird, bizarre and alien and out of Jack’s experience by a few million miles. Jack had been hurting too much to really think about it while it was happening, other than at the most basic  _ this is happening. _

Now, though, Bunny was  _ hugging _ him, and it was both alike and really, really not.

It was warm, Jack thought dazedly, warmer than just about anything he’d felt in ages, and soft, and safe -  _ that’s weird to think,  _ Jack managed to string together, but the vein of the thought was lost before he finished.

Baby Tooth squeaked and darted out of the way, and Jack just held still, not certain of where his arms went or what to do with his head -

‘S’alright, Frostbite,’ Bunny said, and his voice was louder, and Jack could feel it rumbling from one chest into the other. ‘I’m huggin ye around the shoulders, yeah? Arms around me waist, then. And ye’re shorter than me, ye don’t have to worry about yer head.’

Jack followed the instructions, mortified. He’d said it out loud, again.

‘And don’t worry none,’ Bunny added. ‘Ye’re just panicking. Breathe a minute, it’ll be fine.’

Bunny’s voice was soothing, and after a little bit, it didn’t feel quite so strange. It was close - way closer than Jack liked having anyone, really - but it wasn’t  _ bad.  _ Just different. He thought. Maybe.

After a minute more, Jack felt Bunny’s grip loosening, and he let go, stepping back. He’d kept hold of his staff, and now he stared down at it, so he didn’t have to look at Bunny.

Strange. Different. But  _ nice,  _ and Jack hadn’t known that it would feel like that. He still felt warm.

Baby Tooth fluttered down to sit on his shoulder again, and he coughed. ‘Um. Thank you.’ He didn’t trust himself to say more than that.

‘No dramas, Frostbite,’ Bunny said. ‘I - like I said, I’m not good with people.’

‘And I am?’ Jack replied, still not looking up.

‘Neither of us are,’ Bunny conceded. ‘Not the worst company to have when it comes to that, though.’

Jack looked up, startled. Bunny was watching him, and though his expression was still sad around the edges (might always be, Jack said, thinking with a pang of Sandy), there was a faint smile around his mouth.

Jack, feeling kind of helpless to stop it, smiled back. ‘Come on,’ he said, and tilted his head towards the big room. ‘We still have to talk to the others.’

‘Too right,’ Bunny agreed, and Jack thought, as they walked the last little difference, that this was okay; walking side by side with someone. New and strange and different, like hugs. But okay. Even kind of nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...someday we'll get back to the happiness and the sweetness with which I originally wooed you all when you started reading my junk, I promise
> 
> _someday_


	5. Compulsion III: Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have this 20k mess and pretend it's good for my sake thank you okay have fun

Aster was not thinking about the past few minutes. He would think about it later, when it wasn’t so delicate, when the edges of the memory were worn down from their glass-sharp newness. Then, maybe, he wouldn’t cut himself on how much he’d risked by asking - what he had, how much he could have damaged without knowing. Might still have damaged, anyway.

_ Not thinking about it, _ Aster thought firmly, and stopped thinking about it.

Nick and Tooth waited in the centre of the room, worriedly studying the globe on which each believer was marked by their own, tiny light. The globe was attuned to all of their beliefs, not just Nick’s, and so was a good deal dimmer now; Tooth had lost quite a bit of belief, even if she’d won some back. Even that was a temporary measure; she still didn’t have her fairies back, and the belief she’d kept would continue to be chipped away. Now that Sandy was gone, as well, it would dim still further.

‘Jack!’ Tooth said loudly when she caught sight of him, and Baby Tooth (poor thing was going to have that name forever now, Aster reflected) waved to her larger self.

Jack looked a bit like he was under a spotlight, but as Aster watched from the corner of his eye, Jack straightened up a bit. ‘Uh,’ he began hesitatingly. ‘Hey.’

‘Are you alright?’ Tooth said darting over, and though Jack flinched, he didn’t skitter away the way he had from Aster. Aster pretended that didn’t make something ache in the centre of his chest, because if he thought too closely about it, it began to make him think about what he was  _ not thinking about. _

‘I’m okay, just - well, I’m okay,’ Jack said, evading the question. He edged nearer Aster, away from Tooth (she’d always had a problem with personal space, Aster knew), and the strange weight in his chest eased a little. ‘Are - are you?’

Tooth’s expression spun through a whirlwind of responses - pain, grief, fear, sorrow, a flash of anger that Aster knew wasn’t directed at Jack, and a final, bittersweet stillness.

‘I will be,’ she replied, and reached out, patting Jack’s cheek. Jack didn’t move, but she pulled away quickly, and Jack relaxed a little. ‘I see you stole my fairy, again.’ 

‘Not theft if she came to find me,’ Jack replied, beginning to grin. ‘Sorry I’m the favourite.’

Tooth hid her smile behind her hand, but wasn’t entirely successful. Baby Tooth chirped in agreement and nuzzled in closer to Jack’s neck.

Nick gave Aster a strong look, glancing towards Jack and back again. Aster shrugged. Sure, Nick might want the full drum of what had happened, why Jack had run; that wasn’t Aster’s story to share. Some things in his life were not bloody Guardian business, he thought a bit crossly, and looked to Jack himself.

Jack was watching him, head tilted just the tiniest bit to the side, a subtle tension to his face.

‘Ye want to go first, or should I?’ Aster asked, because he had to.

Jack swallowed, and closed his eyes for a second, before nodding. ‘Yeah, I’ll go first,’ he said, surprising Aster a bit.

‘What are you two speaking of?’ Nick asked, striding over. Aster cast a glance towards the globe, watching the lights, and tilted his ears towards the conversation.

‘Dunno what’s on Bun-bun’s mind,’ Jack said; Aster twitched involuntarily, always a little annoyed by the nicknames (Frostbite had backfired spectacularly, but as that was on the list of things he  _ was not thinking about right now,  _ he considered it no further), and Jack’s voice was a little more cheerful when he continued. ‘But - uh, when I was -’

The sound of a wave through air, the faint knock of a staff changing nervous hands.

‘...yeah,’ Jack finished hesitatingly, ‘the sprites that have been causing all the trouble tried to make  _ another _ blizzard.’

Aster’s eyes, quite without his permission, snapped back towards Jack.

‘Which isn’t even hard to stop anymore,’ Jack continued, shrugging. His knuckles were white around his staff, even against his pale skin. ‘I’ve got no clue why the hell they’d try again, but hey, I don’t pretend to understand why they do  _ anything  _ they do. Also, turns out cartoons don’t lie, because bad guys really  _ are  _ inclined to monologue, if you give them half a chance. And the whole  _ let me detail our entire evil scheme  _ thing actually happens. In real life. Wild, I know.’

Aster snorted, and Jack’s mouth quirked up into a smile.

‘So, good news: I know what Pitch has been up to. Everything else is bad news.’

‘Meaning?’ North said, staring hard at Jack.

‘He’s been trying to take you guys down for decades,’ Jack said bluntly. ‘Bunny was supposed to go first, then Sandy. He’s been - well, I don’t really understand how this works, but he’s been making people resent Christmas? Somehow?’

Aster glanced at Nick and watched with a sinking feeling as his skin went grey.

‘So many years, I have wondered,’ Nick said, slow and - old, Aster thought with some alarm. Even now, hair gone white with time, Nick had always kept the same vigour given to him by his Cossack upbringing. For the first time, Aster could see the lines of centuries in his friend’s face. ‘Why does unhappiness grow? Why disappointment, why stress? Families fighting, theft and -’ Nick seemed to blink himself back. ‘And fear,’ he added last, voice soft. ‘Ah, yes. I see. Fear of disappointment, fear of letting down loved ones.’

Aster bit back his words; not that he was entirely sure what he would have said. Pitch had learned subtlety, apparently, once Jack had knocked his plan off course.

Jack was nodding, frowning. ‘Now that you mention it, yeah,’ he said, blue eyes gone distant in his thoughts. ‘Can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen shouting matches around Christmas time. But, when I think back,’ and he tilted his head back, as if to send his mind along the same lines, ‘it wasn’t that bad before? Like, yeah, very stressful time - I remember the thirties in the US, wasn’t the greatest scene.’

He tilted his head back forward, eyes falling on Nick once again, and there was a bitterness there Aster didn’t quite understand, that flickered in and out of existence only just long enough to be noted. ‘But it wasn’t this bad, even then.’

‘I think you have right end of stick,’ Nick agreed gravely.

‘So,’ Jack said, and Aster wondered if he knew what he’d done, the way he’d so quickly melted from the fragile stare and awkward shuffling to a sturdy and implacable capability. He dropped his staff into the crook of his elbow, and began to held up his four fingers, thumb curled into his palm. ‘Pitch has fucked with Christmas, to the point where people don’t even look forward to it anymore,’ he ticked down his index with his free hand. ‘He - uh. Sandy. Yeah.’ Down went the middle finger, and Aster flicked his gaze up from the hand to Jack’s face. Grief was there, so much more than a few minutes’ acquaintance should have lent him, and Aster wondered just how much of the conversation he’d missed between the two of them. How Sandy had so quickly and unerringly won Jack’s loyalty like that. Why  _ he _ couldn’t - he cut himself off. Not thinking about it, not yet. ‘And Tooth’s fairies were taken.’

‘And the memories,’ Tooth supplied, face gone wan. There was one finger remaining on Jack’s hand, yet unbowed, and Aster swallowed.

‘We still have a chance,’ he said, and the others looked to him. Nick’s eyes, suddenly so aged; Tooth, skin waxy and her flight dropping ever so slightly; and Jack.

Aster didn’t often bother to pay attention to the sense of Hope that sat like a warm sun in his chest; it was like thinking about - about his upper arm. It wasn’t independent of himself, and was so necessary to other, more delicate workings, that there was little reason to think about it on its own. It was handy, sometimes, when trying to look for something, and he used it most often on his actual holiday; the rest of the time, he ignored it. He didn’t just feel the good, the growing, the light; he could feel the bad, the dying back, the darkening loss. It was a constant flickering light, affected by the hopes of every person on this planet, human or otherwise. It could swallow him, and so he ignored it. There was little, after centuries of practice, that could catch his attention without his conscious effort.

But between Nick, Tooth, and Jack, there was a little sun that broke through the discipline, that shone  _ on _ him, instead of from him. He could rely on that, the way they were relying on him. And, more than anyone else, he knew they needed some Hope right about now.

‘Easter’s tomorrow,’ he said, and watched the way Nick woke up. He watched the way Tooth’s feathers perked up, her flight rising half an inch. The way Jack smiled, the curve of his mouth curling up across his face and baring his teeth - a war smile.

He felt their Hope blaze from them, and let it join the light in his chest.

‘And I’ve been a bit lazy, it seems,’ he continued. ‘Could use some spare hands, if ye think ye can handle a  _ real  _ holiday.’

Nick puffed up, the way Aster had counted on. ‘You only have to hide eggs in woods!’ he said, sounding a little strangled. ‘I have to enter each house, all over world, all in one night -’

‘Oh, please,’ Tooth scoffed. ‘I handle the whole world  _ every _ night.’

‘You have fairies to assist!’ North pointed out, turning to her. ‘You do not even go yourself!’

Tooth flew nearer, almost poking his eye out with her nose. ‘You don’t even make the toys yourself!’

_ ‘You -’ _

A snicker.

Nick fell still. Tooth blinked. Aster glanced over, as the snicker was joined with another, then another, until it was full blown laughter with neither start nor stop.

Jack was leaning on his staff, using it for support as he laughed so hard that the sound was starting to leave his voice, leaving silent shakes the only sign of his mirth. Aster heard Nick begin to laugh as well, and looked back, when Tooth started giggling.

‘Wow,’ Jack gasped out after a minute. ‘Are you all so - are you guys like this  _ all _ the time?’

Aster felt his mouth twitch, trying to grin, and he held it back. ‘Always,’ he said sombrely.

Jack smiled at him, so bright and alive, eyes blue and cheeks pink, yellow lights overhead gilding his hair, and Aster wondered idly how someone so pale could be so  _ colourful,  _ before shooing the thought away. Unimportant. It didn’t need thinking about.

Aster let the smile through, a soft chuckle of his own joining his friends’, and  _ did _ think about the way he’d felt, not half an hour ago, that there was no more laughter in the world. How disappointed Sandy would have been, had Aster wallowed in it. How glad, that Jack was here and laughing with them.

The Hope in his chest was warm.

‘Are you sure you wish our help, Bunny?’ Nick said, still chuckling. ‘You let no one into Warren. Is difficult thing for you.’

And like that, all of the warmth fled Aster’s bones, leaving his frozen in place and still staring at Jack, who now stared back.

‘Bunny?’ Tooth said when the silence stretched on a little too long, concern in her voice. She dropped to the earth and took a tiny step forward.

‘Er, yeah,’ Aster said, coughing a little and ripping his gaze away from Jack’s, which had gotten steadily wider and wider, panic creeping in at the edges. It seemed Aster was always fated to keep breaking things around him, he thought with some viciousness, and shoved his own panic down deep, along with all these thoughts that weren’t making sense and intruding on what he needed to do. How quickly he could shift between resenting the Guardianship to clinging to it like tree roots from a cliff, dangling over a precipice. ‘S’fine. Emergency, and all. ‘Sides, I asked, yeah?’

‘Bunny…’ Nick began, but clearly thought better of it when he caught sight of Aster’s face. ‘Very well. Let us waste no more time - Easter is depending on us!’

Aster nodded in relief, then paused. Tried to stifle the growing smirk that wanted to spread across his face. ‘Oh, and mate?’ he said, staring at Nick.

Nick frowned. ‘What?’

‘This is for the sleigh.’

With two quick taps and a slight twist of his own magic, Aster opened one of the quick tunnels and flung it wide, dropping them all at once, even Tooth, before snapping it closed behind them.

He had no idea which reaction was most satisfying - Nick’s bellow of surprise, Tooth’s shriek of terror, or Jack’s sudden holler of delighted laughter. Aster just leapt and began to go - with the tiny modification he’d added, either you moved, or the tunnel moved you.

From the loud and stumbling Russian swearing behind him, Nick was finding this out the hard way.

He’d never yet managed to make this modification go faster than himself, so he didn’t tend to bother with it, but it was very useful for getting googs where they needed to go, and (apparently) ushering others into the Warren.

Jack caught up, still laughing, and spun once, twice, flitting out of the way of boulders and other obstacles like he’d been doing it for years. Tooth was just behind him, wings working furiously to keep up, and she sent Aster a dirty glare. Aster just chuckled.

They spilled out into the Warren after a time spent like this, Jack laughing with joy and Aster chuckling occasionally, Tooth’s giggles like music in the air when she couldn’t contain them anymore.

Aster paused. ‘So,’ he said, gesturing towards the wide plain where the tunnels led. ‘This is - is me Warren.’

Nerves flooded him, like when he’d let Jack inside that first time.  _ Emergency only,  _ he told himself. He also told himself that it didn’t much matter, Tooth’s opinion of it, but -

‘Oh, Bunny,’ she sighed, rotating slowly in the air. ‘It’s so lovely. No wonder you hide it away.’

Aster relaxed a bit, but tensed up again when Nick stumbled from the tunnel they’d arrived through.

‘Bunny, I will skin you for soup,’ he threatened loudly, pointing a finger. ‘Giant rabbit man soup, do you hear me?’

Aster rolled his eyes. ‘Ye’ve not got a soup pot big enough,’ he said dryly. ‘Come in, make yerself comfortable, why don’t ye.’

‘Would be easier,’ Nick rumbled, ‘if you did not  _ roll me from Pole to Pole.’ _

‘Ye can get back in, I’d be happy to send ye a little more south,’ Aster returned.

Jack’s snickers off to the side were not helping.

Nick rolled his neck, the snaps sounding like firecrackers as he went, and cast a look around. ‘Too much green,’ he announced, and Aster relaxed all the way. ‘Needs more red.’

‘It needs red like ye need another plate of cookies,’ Aster fired back, eyeing Nick’s stomach pointedly. ‘Now, come on, are ye going to -’

A tiny sound.

Aster fell still.

‘Bunny?’ Jack said, and Aster held up a paw, ears swivelling this way and that. He’d heard it, he knew he had. He just had no idea what it was.

He could hear the googs start to move, and rapidly - tiny feet like the fastest drumbeat, 64ths and 128ths, and it masked the new sound as the herd began to drive itself towards them. Or was herded, Aster thought with a sinking feeling, and reached back, snagging one of his boomerangs.

‘Bunny, what do you hear?’ Tooth demanded. Baby Tooth finally left her perch on Jack’s shoulder, flying to her larger self, and the two of them were about buzzing with tension.

‘Something’s stirring the googs up fierce,’ Aster replied, twisting to face the direction they were coming from. ‘No idea what -’

The sound was louder now, more than audible to everyone else, and there wasn’t a one of them that didn’t feel the dread in their bones. Pitch had gotten into Tooth Palace, had dissolved Sandy into an obsidian mockery of his golden light - how could they have thought that Pitch wouldn’t get in here, too?

Aster swallowed back the bile. Fine.  _ Fine.  _ Pitch had gotten in, was here, and this was it. At least it was on Aster’s home turf.

He lifted his boomerang, arm tensed to throw; from his peripheral vision, he saw Jack adjust his grip on his staff and tilt his body forward, Nick heft his swords with an intent glare, Tooth raise another crucial inch into the air.

‘Hold,’ he said quietly. ‘Until the last second. Let him think we’ve frozen.’

‘Will that work?’ Jack asked as the sound grew louder.

‘Pitch loves to believe he’s won,’ Aster replied. ‘Let him think he’s got us, and he’ll leave an opening.’

Jack was going to respond, but then the googs poured into the plain, and everything stopped making sense.

‘Bunny! Bunny!’ shouted the terror of the googs, and barreled down the hill and smack into Aster’s middle. ‘Hop hop hop!’

There was silence.

‘Sophie?’ Aster said weakly.

‘Sophie?’ Jack repeated, staring. ‘Isn’t that - Jaime’s sister?’

Aster looked over. ‘Ye know -’

‘Yeah, he’s one of the kids who hangs out near my… near one of the lakes I freeze over,’ Jack said, stumbling a little. ‘What the hell is she doing here?’

‘Language,’ Aster admonished, then winced.

Jack just smiled crookedly. ‘Can’t see or hear me, remember?’ he said, the words interrupted by Sophie looking up and saying, ‘Bunny talk to who? Bunny talk to who?’

Aster’s heart ached for a long moment. ‘A friend,’ he said, to Sophie, but kept his gaze on Jack for a moment longer. Jack’s eyes had fallen to the tinlid, and twisted a little, pain visible for a second before it smoothed out into a rueful grin. ‘How did ye get in here?’

‘Shiny round,’ Sophie said, sounding very authoritative about it, hands buried in the fur of his middle. He picked her up gingerly, confused.

‘A shiny… oh, starshine,’ he said, and looked to Nick. ‘When I knocked into ye -’

Nick’s eyes went wide in understanding, hands patting at his inner pockets. ‘Da, globe is missing,’ he said, and had the good grace to look sheepish about it. ‘When she picked up blanket, must have picked it up as well.’

‘Well, that’s just lovely,’ Aster groused. ‘An anklebiter in me Warren. We need to get her back, before -’

Sophie wriggled and shrieked, and Aster dropped her out of surprise. Clearly she’d intended for that to happen, because she caught herself on hands and feet and scrambled away, shouting the word ‘No!’ at a truly impressive pitch. The googs parted around her, and she ducked behind one of the egg sentinels. Ruddy useless things, Aster thought sourly in their direction, if they couldn’t keep a child from waltzing in.

‘Wow, Bunny,’ Jack said dryly.

‘What?’ Aster asked, more than a little defensive.

‘I’ve got this,’ Tooth said, sounding very certain, and zipped over to the tiny girl. ‘Everyone knows little girls love fairies!’

Aster squinted, offended. ‘Oi, are ye saying -’

He was promptly interrupted by another round of shrieking, as Sophie didn’t appear to like the still bloodied teeth Tooth was keeping safe on her.

‘Oh, my god,’ Jack laughed beside Aster, sounding stunned. ‘When was the last time  _ any  _ of you actually saw a kid?’

‘A few hours past,’ Aster protested. ‘Her brother was fine -’

‘He’s also, like, seven,’ Jack said dismissively. ‘She’s, what, three? Two? Come on, guys, this is not how you handle a kid.’

Aster opened his mouth to argue some more, a tiny part of him hurt that Jack thought - Aster had been a Guardian for  _ centuries,  _ he could handle a tot just fine -

Jack sidled over toward the egg sentinel and hopped up, careless. He looked comfortable here, like he’d spent years here instead of the grand total of half an hour over the past few decades, and it shut Aster’s mouth in astonishment.

‘Watch,’ Jack said, grinning, and spun a snowball out of nothing, before throwing it and nailing one of the googs.

‘Jack!’ Aster yelped, horrified, but the goog was fine, shaking the snow off. Sophie couldn’t see where the snow was coming from, and didn’t appear to care, laughing a little at the stumbling goog.

Jack threw another, and she followed that, giggling more, until she was chasing the stumbling googs - right into Aster’s waiting arms.

Then, gentle as the first snow, a single snowflake came to rest on Aster’s nose, a bright cheerful blue before dissolving. Aster had time to glance at Jack, startled, before - a laugh. Surprised from his own throat, and making no sense, but felt cold in the best way possible: the first drink of water on a hot day, the first breeze across a sweaty brow, the first sign of frost after a long, sweltering autumn.

He laughed again, and Jack looked so satisfied, he started to float.

‘Come on, Bun-bun,’ he coaxed. ‘Sure, it’s work. But who says you can’t have some fun?’

Aster grinned, a bit helpless, and stood with Sophie in his arms.

‘What do ye think, Sophie?’ he asked the girl, who was staring at him with big eyes. ‘Ye wanna help paint some googs for Easter tomorrow?’

Her answering joyful shriek was all the answer he needed.

  
  


Jack wished, not for the first time since they’d arrived in the Warren, that he’d - he wasn’t sure, really. He knew he was still trying to process everything. Sometimes, it sort of made him angry, how long it took him to work through things, but never so much as now, when everything was happening so  _ quickly. _

Turned out, Bunny had some kind of measures in place for if he was running behind; there was a river that ran through the Warren, all bright colours and dancing dye, and they herded the eggs into the water (Sophie was, surprisingly, a great help in this).

She adored Bunny with every little bone in her body, and it took all of five minutes for everyone to realise that it was mutual. The little girl barely went more than a foot from him, crawling all over and chasing eggs and shrieking her joy left and right and centre, and Bunny was right there for all of it. He caught her when she tumbled off of stones and tossed her when he thought no one was looking, catching her again with a smile on his face that looked… a little strange, to Jack. Like - he knew he hadn’t seen smiles that big in Bunny’s mouth. He’d had no reason to, since the past day (two days?) had been spent in pursuit of things that weren’t quite what anyone would call  _ fun.  _ And before that, they’d not really had the time to exchange smiles, either, not with Bunny’s awkwardness and Jack’s… nerves. Yeah. Nerves.

The way Bunny smiled at Sophie when he thought no one was looking was still familiar to Jack, somehow, like he’d seen its echoes in earlier grins and quirks of mouth, and only now got to see it in full glory. It was  _ happy, _ and Jack, even amidst his own confusion and grief and every other emotion that had been tossed onto his lap, was glad to see it. Bunny was a good person. He deserved to be happy.

Jack had melted into the background a bit, glad to do so; it was easier, to chivvy eggs along into the vines that curled painted designs into the shells, if he didn’t have to think about where Sophie was. He’d had enough of people walking through him, not seeing him, for a while. It still stung about her brother, in a way, and Jack didn’t want to try and work through that right now, on top of everything else.

That lasted until North cornered him.

Jack didn’t realise he was there for a moment, focussed on prodding a stray gaggle of eggs back towards the vines. They looked different from Bunny’s normal batches (Jack was starting to suspect the guy handpainted each one; there were  _ millions _ here, though, there was no way that was true), but they were pretty enough, in their own way. Jack had seen a lot of the egg hunts in the last forty years, though. He had to say, he liked those better.

‘Jack Frost.’

Jack was up and standing in an instant, hand tight on his staff and whirling on his heel. Behind him, the startled eggs sprinted where he’d been directing them, scared by the sudden movement, but he had no eyes for them.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ North said, waving a massive hand. He sounded genuinely sorry, for all that the motion was dismissive. It was weird. Jack didn’t like it. ‘How are you doing?’

Jack bristled a little. ‘Fine,’ he said shortly. It wasn’t like the eggs had gone far, and he was kind of annoyed that North had come to check up on him. ‘The eggs are back where they -’

‘Not eggs, Jack,’ North interrupted with a chuckle. ‘I do not worry about that. You must have this in hand - you have done this many times, yes?’

Jack jerked, and he stared up at the massive man. ‘What?’ he said after a moment. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

Now it was North’s turn to look puzzled. ‘You have not helped Bunny with egg hunts?’

‘No,’ Jack drew out slowly. Was North crazy? Jack was pretty sure an emergency of this magnitude was just about the only thing that would make Bunny let  _ anyone _ interfere. ‘Why would I - what the hell made you think that?’

‘Language,’ North admonished, then winced. Jack couldn’t help the rueful grin. Everyone forgot, but not everyone had the good grace to look ashamed afterwards.

‘Yeah, not really worried Sophie’s going to hear,’ Jack said, and tried to move past it quickly. ‘Seriously, though, you think Bunny would let anyone in here?’

‘He has let you.’

Now Jack was wincing.

‘Ah, is true,’ and North sounded very self satisfied. ‘I thought as much, though neither of you said.’

Jack threw a glare at North, but it had zero effect on the self-satisfaction. ‘It was only for a couple of minutes,’ Jack tried to explain. ‘So I could tell him about the blizzards. It was - business? Yeah.’

North nodded very seriously. ‘I see. Is why he carried you into my Workshop with his own two paws, yes? Business?’

Jack blinked. ‘Uh, yeah?’ he answered, words dragging in his mouth. ‘Duh? It was to pay me back for ‘68. And besides - he’s Bunny. He’d do that for anyone.’

‘Ah, would he?’ North asked. Jack bit his cheek, but the anger was there, anyway.

‘Wow, are you this much of a jackass to everyone?’ Jack demanded. ‘Even your friends? Of course he would. He’s a good person.’

‘You misunderstand,’ North said, still looking a little more smug than Jack could stand. ‘I did not mean he would not. I meant that you are friends, yes? And you are comfortable here.’

Jack opened his mouth to fire off a response halfway through North’s words, but paused. Comfortable, here? But it was  _ underground.  _ It was so far from the sky and the wind and the clouds - 

His Wind curled around him, just the tiniest bit, and he remembered the way she’d answered his call, even that first time. Sunlight warmed the Warren all over, as far from a dark, dimly lit cave as Jack could imagine. It wasn’t - enclosed, never had been. And even when he’d been trying to leave as quickly as possible, it wasn’t because he  _ didn’t  _ like the place. He was just… scared. That he was going to be asked to leave.

But Bunny wouldn’t do that, would he? He’d asked them here, to help. He’d called Jack his friend, more than once. He’d  _ hugged _ him, which Jack still couldn’t think about too closely, because when he did he still felt the way it wanted to overwhelm him like waters rising in a well, sloshing over the sides and dislodging stones.

Bunny wanted him here. And Jack hadn’t felt once like running.

He looked at North, who had somehow grown more smug in the seconds Jack had been lost in his head. ‘You understand why I would think you had helped before, da?’ he asked. ‘You are friends. He might not have needed help, no. He might have wanted company.’

Jack was struck by that, and for a second, wonder filled him - wonder that he might have been wanted here all along. He could have tried to come back without an emergency (would have tried, but everyone had said… hadn’t everyone been wrong, though? Jack’s head was a muddle. Everything was running together.)

He shook his head, like trying to clear it of water. ‘Uh. No. I haven’t helped him before.’

‘Ah, is not quite true, either,’ North chuckled. ‘But no matter. Come, we have spent enough time chitchatting. Let us return to work.’

Jack nodded, wordless, and North ambled off, like he hadn’t set Jack’s world on its ear.

The next while was a bit of a blur, but when Jack could stop the world from spinning quite so quickly, he stood watching millions - hundreds of millions - of eggs marching into the tunnels. He stood beside Bunny, who was cradling Sophie near. She’d finally fallen asleep.

Jack didn’t really expect Bunny to say anything. They still had work to do, after all - the eggs were painted, but now they had to hide them, and  _ that _ promised to be the hardest part of all.

Nevertheless, Bunny tilted his ears towards Jack, and said in a voice as steady as any mountain, ‘Thank ye.’

‘What?’ Jack blurted before he could think.

‘I said thank ye,’ Bunny snorted, still looking over the streaming parade of brightly painted eggs. ‘For yer help. And for coming back.’

Jack gaped at him.

‘Not sure I could have gotten ready in time without ye lot,’ Bunny said, and then looked square in Jack’s eyes, green like spring, like he was reflecting all the Warren in his irises. ‘So thank ye.’

Jack swallowed. Nodded a little. What else was he supposed to do? He sure as hell couldn’t talk.

‘Need to get the tot home, though,’ Bunny added, and his ears drooped a little. ‘Can’t let her oldies find her missing.’ He gave Jack a smile. ‘Got the last one home, didn’t we?’

Jack nodded again, mutely. ‘68 was in the past, but it was also right in front of his eyes, and it took a lot for him to swallow it down and say, ‘I think I’ve got this one, Cottontail.’

‘What?’ Bunny said, eyebrows rising. ‘But won’t she - er.’

Jack rolled his eyes, but wasn’t really all that annoyed. ‘Watch,’ Jack said, and held his arms out.

Gently, as if certain she would slip right through Jack’s arms - and Jack didn’t blame him for the thought - Aster laid her in Jack’s hold. Still sleeping, she curled into him, and Jack tried not to hold on too tightly, even though her warmth and tinyness were almost as nice as being hugged again. He held her steady, and smiled down at her.

‘Jack?’

He looked up, surprised, to see Tooth and North had arrived, as well. They were staring at him, and he hitched Sophie up, a bit unnerved.

‘I don’t get it, either,’ he said to their bewildered faces. ‘When they’re awake, it’s like I’m a ghost, or something. But once they’re asleep -’ he shrugged, gently so as to not jostle her. ‘They’re solid. Or I’m solid, I guess.’

Bunny was watching him, a thoughtful gaze instead of the confusion of North and Tooth’s. ‘S’cause they’re dreaming,’ he said, and reached out, smoothing a paw over her choppy blonde hair. ‘Ye can believe in anything when ye’re dreaming.’

Jack held still. Sandy’s name went unspoken, but it hung in the air anyway.

‘How’d ye figure this out, though?’ Bunny asked after a moment, paw still on Sophie’s head.

‘There was - uh, a kid,’ Jack said, thrown. ‘Back in - I think it was 1889? Sounds about right. He was falling down a hill, and knocked his head. I knew I wouldn’t catch him, but I had to try - but he’d knocked himself out, and I caught him.’ Jack shrugged again. ‘I carried him back to where someone would find him, and waited. He was fine, just out of it, but…’

Bunny was looking at him, and Jack tried not to let it get in his head, make him floaty and blurry again. He hoped this worked and they kicked Pitch’s ass, because he needed to have some time to think everything through.

‘Are you not helping hide eggs, Jack?’ Tooth asked, concerned. Baby Tooth flew over, settled on the opposite shoulder from where Sophie’s head lolled.

‘I’m just going to take Sophie home,’ Jack said, and grinned. ‘I’ll be quick as a bunny, don’t worry.’

Bunny groaned, North chuckled, and Tooth smiled back.

‘We’ll get started, then,’ she said. ‘Find Bunny when you’re done, he’ll know what needs to be done.’

‘You got it,’ he said, and looked to the Guardian in question.

‘This way, Frostbite,’ Bunny said, and pointed towards one of the tunnels. Jack felt a tiny change, like a static charge, and thought that the tunnel would probably work like the one that had gotten them here. The magic felt the same. ‘And hurry back, yeah?’

Jack looked back at Bunny, and his face was suddenly drawn, ears tilted at a tight, uncomfortable-looking angle.

‘I will,’ Jack promised, and twitched his staff where it was clutched behind Sophie’s back. The Wind answered the silent call, picking him up and tossing him gently towards the tunnel in question, and then the magic had him.

It sped his flight up the same way it had when they were on their wild slide in (and holy  _ shit,  _ that had been fun, Jack was so going to have to try and get another go one of these days - especially now that he might be allowed to ask). Jack counted the minutes whilst the Wind buoyed him through, and barely ten passed before he spun straight out of the opened tunnel and into the night air.

Burgess was peaceful below him, and Sophie shivered a little in his arms, out now as she was from the tunnels’ warmth. On the opposite shoulder, Baby Tooth chirped softly, and Jack remembered that he wasn’t exactly the warmest thing in the world; best to get her inside quickly, and before she woke.

Jack ducked down and tapped his staff against one of the windows to the house, judging from the myriad dolls and frilly things that this mustn’t be Jaime’s room. A bit of magic (amazing how ice could expand wood and loosen locks) and the window slid open, letting him in.

He set her gently in her bed, and smiled at the soft little snores that she made. Baby Tooth darted down and tucked a piece of hair behind Sophie’s ear lovingly.

‘Think she’ll be alright?’ Jack asked Baby Tooth softly.

Baby Tooth chittered in the same quiet tone - for certain.

At that moment, there was a thump; Jack looked over, startled, to see Sophie had rolled right off the bed, sleeping soundly in a pile on the floor.

He and Baby Tooth shared a glance, before Jack shrugged and put one of the blankets over her; might as well keep her warm.

‘Okay,’ he whispered to Baby Tooth, hopping up on the windowsill and shutting the window gently behind him. ‘We should get -’

_ ‘JACK!’ _

Every cell in his body froze solid.

He  _ knew  _ that voice, knew it in the bones and breath of him, but when he tried to place a name to it - nothing. There was no memory, just the same blank void as when he woke up from a dream: the sensation of loss, like he’d had something and it had gone missing. It was a girl’s voice. He knew it. He  _ knew  _ it.

Baby Tooth chittered at him, and he shook himself. Her head was tilted to the left, mismatched eyes wide, and she chirped the question again.

‘Did you hear that?’ he asked her. She shook her head.

_ ‘JACK!’ _

Jack snapped his head around - off to the west, he thought, but growing fainter. He had to catch up to her, before she disappeared entirely. She sounded scared. She needed him. He had to.

‘How can you not hear that?’ he asked Baby Tooth, stepping off the ledge into the Wind’s waiting breezes. ‘She’s calling my name - someone knows my name, Baby Tooth!’

A bewildered set of chirps, then a quick, alarmed one when he took off towards the sound.

‘It won’t be long, Baby Tooth,’ he assured her, and something in his heart was singing - someone was looking for him, looking for  _ him  _ \- ‘We’ll be back before they even know I’m gone!’

A loud, frightened chirp as he picked up speed.

‘Thanks for the faith in me,’ he replied.

Two chirps, and the cadence of them screamed ‘But  _ Bunny!’ _

That, at last, gave Jack pause.

He hovered over his lake (he was alone except for Baby Tooth, he could call it that if he wanted), and tried not to think about the way kids would be swarming here in a couple of hours, looking for eggs - they always held egghunts near the lake, had for years and years now. And Bunny needed the help - had  _ said _ he needed the help.

‘The eggs are painted, right?’ Jack said, and Baby Tooth took off from his shoulder to look him in the eye as he spoke. ‘They’re painted, and he’s been hiding eggs for ages and ages. He won’t miss me for a couple of minutes.’

Two very frustrated chirps, and a poked nose for good measure.

_ ‘JACK!’ _

The voice sounded  _ pained,  _ now, and Jack swallowed. ‘It’s a little girl, Baby Tooth,’ he said, trying to keep his panic out of his voice. ‘A little girl, and she’s scared. And - Bunny will understand. He  _ will,’ _ Jack insisted to her sceptical look. ‘It’s a kid. He’s a Guardian. If she’s in danger, and I didn’t do anything to help her -’ he swallowed. ‘Look, Baby Tooth, can I tell you a secret? You have to promise not to tell anyone.’

She looked a little dubious, but nodded.

Jack took a deep breath. ‘I don’t remember anything,’ he said, very quietly. ‘I just woke up one night, like this.’ He gestured to the sky, where the Moon would be; he didn’t know if it had already risen and fallen, or would rise in the early morning. He’d lost track of time, again. ‘And the Moon was there, and he told me my name, and that was it.’

Baby Tooth stared at him.

‘From what I’ve seen,’ Jack added, trying to gauge her reaction, ‘that’s not normal?’

She shook her head so quickly she bobbed in the air.

‘Right,’ Jack huffed. One thing to think it, another to have it confirmed. ‘Well. It’s - well, it’s not great, but I’ve learned to deal with it.’

_ ‘JACK!’ _

He flinched. ‘I know her voice,’ he said, and he knew he was begging this tiny fairy in front of him to understand and helpless to do anything else. ‘I know it, and I don’t know why, but I have to help her. Please.’

Baby Tooth paused, visibly conflicted, her miniscule hands worrying over one another and her eyes wide. Then, to Jack’s immense relief, she nodded, and flew back to sit on his shoulder.

‘Thank you,’ Jack breathed. He smiled weakly. ‘Besides - I’m apparently friends with Guardians, now,’ he added. ‘Seems like saving kids is the kind of thing I should do.’

He felt more than saw Baby Tooth’s nod, nestled as she was against his neck.

_ ‘JACK! Please!’ _

He nearly gave himself whiplash turning around at that, and saw at last where the sound was coming from - like a spot of earth had been erased from the landscape, there was a dark hole in the earth, not far from his lake. He hadn’t noticed it before, and he wondered if it was because it was new, or if…

It didn’t matter. That was where the voice was coming from.

He flew over and came to a stop above it, staring down. It was a gaping, clawed open hole that swiftly descended into darkness; he couldn’t see the bottom, but he could easily see how a kid could have tripped down there. Gingerly, he descended, and couldn’t help the way his eyes snapped up above him, watching the stars until they were obliterated by the darkness.

It was nothing like Bunny’s tunnels. Those were warm and dry, lit by natural sunlight and thick with growing things.

This tunnel - and as he descended, he realised it couldn’t be called anything else, not with the way it curved around and levelled out before sharply descending once more - was, in a word,  _ dark.  _ Dark and tight and twisting, damp and cold in a way that even Jack could feel, and he pulled up his hood, trying to give Baby Tooth what little warmth he could. She was shivering against his neck. He tried to keep his breathing even, to ignore the panic in his chest at the thought of being trapped.

He could hear whispers now, echoes of that voice - soft murmurs of  _ ‘Jack!’ _ and  _ ‘Please!’  _ that made his jaw clench and his heart race. She sounded so small, and so scared. His hands were tight on his staff. There was a dripping sound from the walls, and it echoed against the walls like only dripping water could.

Then, a faint sound. A brighter sound, but dulled. Baby Tooth perked up.

‘What?’ Jack whispered, but it felt too loud in the enclosed space. ‘Do you hear that? Do you know what that is?’

He could feel her nod, and her hands tugged at his earlobe, directing him forward.

The tunnel let out at last into a cavernous space, and the shapes and layout hurt Jack’s eyes. Staircases shouldn’t work that way, doors leading nowhere, visions of upside down rooms through archways; Jack remembered some kind of painting that had looked like this, and tried not to think too hard about it. Everything seemed carved from one massive block of iron, pitted and old. Cages and wire structures filled the room, with a great, looming round shadow dominating the centre, and piles of brick-like rubble all about. What little light there was dissolved into nothing long before it his the ground, and Jack floated nervously into the room, Wind as hesistant as he.

The sound had resolved itself into faint cheeps and squeaks, and Jack realised it wasn’t Baby Tooth’s voice.

‘The fairies!’ he breathed, and spun up higher in the air to peer into the cages, held off the ground. And - yes, the fairies were there, pressing up to the bars of the cages with wide eyes and frantic chirping. That meant… oh, no. He knew where he was, now.

He darted to the nearest cage, Baby Tooth taking off from his shoulder with a soft trill, and shooed the fairies back. Then, he tapped his staff against the lock.

Iron was a brittle metal when made too cold, and he broke it with another hard rap, frost crumbling the delicate internal mechanisms. He swung the door open, and winced at the rusty, screeching sound it made. ‘Come on,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s go, let’s get you out of here -’

The fairies shook their heads and twitched their wings. He sank an inch or so in dread when he realised why. ‘You can’t fly anymore, can you?’ he asked, and they shook their heads again. The belief was gone. Tooth was nearer to having no believers than he’d thought. The door swung back closed with a heavy-hearted clang.

Baby Tooth’s chirp rang out, and it sounded different from her sisters - or, more familiar, maybe. Jack turned, and she was struggling through the air, holding something long and golden, glinting even in the dim light of the room. Why she could fly when none of her sisters could, Jack didn’t know, but it was an effort, he could see.

He reached out, and she dropped the cylinder into his hand with a soft squeak of relief. ‘Baby Tooth, what is this?’ Jack asked, eyeing it, puzzled. It was flat on one side, with a tiny mosaic face on one end - a little boy, looked like, with brown hair and eyes. No one he recognised, and even if he had, it looked like any number of other little boys.

Baby Tooth tapped her own forehead, and then gestured towards a pile of…

‘Oh, man,’ Jack breathed. What he’d initially mistaken for piles of rubble, or something, he now realised were piles of these rods (boxes? It felt too light for a solid metal. ‘I have no idea what this is, Baby Tooth,’ Jack admitted.

She tugged on his hand and the cylinder both, until he placed it in the pocket of his sweatshirt. Then she began to tug him away, towards the massive shadow in the centre of the room.

‘But - the fairies,’ he protested, squinting around the room, hoping he could see more clearly. ‘The little girl -’

Baby Tooth patted him, where she held onto his index finger, and tapped her own forehead again.

‘I’m not making it up!’ Jack said, frustrated.

She shook her head, and patted his sweatshirt pocket, where the cylinder was. Then she chirped and began to pull on him again.

Bewildered, Jack considered resisting, but he couldn’t hear the little girl’s voice even in whispers, now. He needed to find her, he  _ knew _ he did, but… there was a feeling in his chest, that she was safe for now. He could let her be.

_ Why  _ he was thinking that, when he was standing in  _ Pitch’s hideout,  _ he had no idea. He had no choice but to trust it, though, and let Baby Tooth guide him where she wanted him to go.

He realised as they neared the massive, shadowy orb, that it was a globe - like the one at North’s workshop. There were even fewer lights on this one, and he had no idea of if that was because it belonged to Pitch, or if…

‘Would you look at that,’ a voice curled out from the darkness, and Jack flinched. ‘A bird trapped in the caves. How unfortunate.’

‘We need to go,’ Jack whispered to Baby Tooth, who nodded. It hurt his heart to leave all the fairies behind, but Pitch was  _ here  _ now, and Jack knew how to get in. He’d come back with the Guardians and rescue them, but they had to go, or everything could - everything  _ would _ be over.

‘Leaving so soon?’ Pitch asked, voice a mockery of kindness, and strode out from the shadows suddenly, stalking towards Jack. Jack flinched and leapt into the air, away from the creep, and Pitch laughed.

‘Do you think being in the air will save you?’ Pitch asked. ‘It didn’t help save sweet, sweet Sandy, did it?’

Jack snarled before he thought better of it, fingers twitching on the staff, and there was such a snap of rage inside him, cold as the depths of a crevasse.

‘I seem to have touched a nerve,’ Pitch said delicately. ‘Oh, dear.  _ Terribly _ sorry about that.’ He gestured towards the globe Jack now hovered over, with all its tiny lights, so few in number but still glowing. ‘Do you like it? I was always more of a minimalist.’

‘Oh, yeah, love what you’ve done with the place,’ Jack replied, rage overpowering the creep factor. ‘Always liked the Goblin King, myself.’

Pitch’s face twisted in distaste. Jack grinned; there, that was better than the smugness.

‘Well, as great as this has been,’ Jack said, and Baby Tooth dropped into the hood of his sweatshirt, taking cues like a champ. ‘I think I should be on my way. Evil villains to thwart, and all that.’

‘You think so simply,’ Pitch answered, and looked quite bored with the concept. ‘Good, and evil. Black, and white. I’ve always preferred the shadows, myself.’

Jack rolled his eyes. ‘Okay, Drama King,’ he said. ‘Good for you. But reality check -  _ you killed someone!’ _

His shout echoed around the cavern, startling Baby Tooth and the other fairies from the sounds of it, and even Pitch looked just a shade taken aback.

‘You  _ killed _ someone, who just brought people good dreams!’ Jack continued, the words rising in him faster than he could swallow them down, and he had the disconcerting experience of knowing that he was digging himself into a deep hole but being unable to stop himself. ‘You stole the fairies and the - whatever those are! You make people miserable and you keep trying to  _ hurt _ people - hurt  _ kids!  _ Kids who never did anything to you!’

‘If you knew -’ Pitch began, but Jack cut him off with a strangled sounding laugh.

‘Fuck off,’ Jack spat. ‘You’re  _ hurting people.  _ If you think that’s morally ambiguous, or whatever, good for you! But you can fuck right off, because your reasons aren’t good enough to hurt innocent kids over. They never will be, you self-important, over-dramatic  _ bully.’ _

Pitch’s scowl was a fearsome thing, but Jack wasn’t fazed by it, wasn’t afraid; rage filled him up from the inside, and left no room for fear. With a snarling sound like dead tree branches clacking in an October wind, Pitch slashed his hand down, and black sand rose up from the shadows.

‘Time to go - hold tight!’ Jack yelped to Baby Tooth, and let the Wind take him.

They shot towards the tunnel they’d entered through, and Nightmares nipped at his heels all the way, always trying to grab him and drag him down - but the Wind sent them spinning aside, jerking Jack out of the way and throwing him just out of reach. It was not a gentle ride, not in the slightest, and more than once Jack smacked hard into a tunnel wall. The shadows were vast and dark, hiding low ceilings and sudden turns, boulders in the way, and all the while Jack could hear Pitch laughing in the distance, like he was strolling lazily along after him, assured of his victory.

‘Leave us the fuck alone!’ Jack shouted at last, and the laughter was suddenly very near. Right in his ear.

‘Never. I will crush each of you, one by one. And you, I will save for last, so you can watch them all go before you.’

Jack reached back to punch him, but Pitch had already slid away, laughing still.

‘Let’s start with the obvious choice,’ Pitch said, and the shadows began to bleed away, light slinking in guiltily. ‘I do always love self-fulfilling prophecies.’

Jack realised that beneath him, soft and green, was grass. The light was from the sun. And the sharp prickles beneath his heels when he touched down…

‘No,’ he whispered, staring in horror at the broken, brittle colours of painted eggs. ‘What did you do?’

‘Ah, Jack,’ Pitch said, and Jack turned to see him lounging in a corner where the sunlight wasn’t so strong. His smile was triumphant. ‘I think it’s truer to say: what did  _ you _ do?’

He melted away into the shadow, and Jack held very still.

There was an entrance to the surface nearby, still open, and Jack walked numbly through it, the Wind trying to pick him up but unable to when he wouldn’t let himself be moved. He could hear Baby Tooth chirp desperately in his ear, but didn’t understand it any more than usual.

It was outside his lake. Of course it was. And on the other side, on the grassy wide plain, Jack saw Bunny, and North, and Tooth. They didn’t see him, turned away as they were, Bunny holding out an egg to one of the children.

For the first time, Jack saw a child walk through someone else.

He backed away, one step, then another. In his head, like cracking ice, were disjointed words -  _ I failed - I did it again - it’s ruined - it’s over - my fault this is all my fault - _

He turned, and like always, ran.

  
  


Aster was done. He knew it the second the child didn’t make eye contact, knew it before the cold shock of someone walking through him jangled in his bones.

It was over. Easter had failed.

‘Bunny,’ Nick said, and it was soft, and Aster didn’t want to hear it.

‘We’re through,’ he replied, and in it was the final, bitter sound of someone with nothing left to give.

Centuries of work - such a brief span in his life, and so bright! It shone more clearly in his memory than even the great expanse of the Golden Age. He’d been a part of something, however reluctant he’d been at the first, and had invested himself in it. There was something good to be grown here, to be nurtured, and he’d given himself over to it in a way he hadn’t done with anything since his entire life had crumbled to a stop, billions of years past. He’d planted the seeds of his own hope there, amongst all of the little lights of this planet, and watched them grow - that someday, he might return to the stars, that there might be hope, if not for him, then for everyone else.

And now it was ash. Like everything he’d ever touched.

‘Bunny, please,’ Tooth said, laying her hand on his arm. ‘There’s still - we could try -’

‘Ye know there’s not,’ Bunny answered. 

‘Bunny,’ Nick repeated, and his hand joined Tooth’s, on the opposite shoulder.

‘Stop it,’ Aster said, tired. ‘There’s nothing left. And -’ he swallowed.

He was trying so hard not to think about it, but he was staring his own death in the face now - when else would he be able to?

Jack hadn’t returned. Aster had seen Sophie at the egg hunt just before, little face determined, so Jack had gotten her home, and for a second relief had been all Aster had known. Sophie had gotten home safe.

Then, the Nightmares struck.

Even Nick had only just managed to roll out of the exit in time, away from the sharp hooves, and Tooth had a nasty gash down one arm. They’d poured into the tunnels, and stomped all the googs to hell, and stars and suns keep his soul, all Aster could think at the time was that at least Sophie was safe.

But then - where was Jack?

There had been no sight of him before the attack, and it hadn’t been all that long, Aster didn’t think - not long enough that he’d begun to do more than the low-level worrying he’d already done. Now, though, everything was ruined, and Jack was nowhere to be found, and by all the stars, Aster prayed that at least Jack had gotten away, hadn’t been - like the googs, trampled and broken on the floor of one of his tunnels somewhere, caught by surprise -

A sob, wracked and worn, worked its way out of his throat. Aster didn’t try to pretend it was otherwise.

‘Oh, Bunny,’ Tooth said, sounding sniffly herself, and wrapped her thin arms around his neck. Even the sensation of the blood soaking his fur from her arm didn’t bother him. It felt appropriate, even. ‘I -’ she began, then froze.

‘Tooth?’ Aster said, turning in her embrace. She was staring off into the middle-distance, as she did whenever she got too deep into the telepathic bond that existed between herself and her smaller selves. It had been - centuries, though, since that had happened. ‘Tooth!’

‘I - he’s alive!’ she said, and like she’d set fire to his blood, Aster felt Hope race from her into the centre of his chest with the force of a punch. ‘Jack’s alive, he has my fairy with him - oh, you are in trouble, little girl, when I find you -!’

‘He’s alive?!’ Aster demanded, and Nick’s hand was tight on his shoulder, and Tooth was tearing up, and there was  _ Hope  _ in him again. ‘Where is he? Is he alright, I -’

‘Hold on, hold on!’ Tooth cried, eyes gone wide. ‘He  _ what? _ He found Pitch’s lair?!’

Aster flinched, and in his memory was the gaping slice in Jack’s side, surely long healed over by now but still fresh in Aster’s mind.

‘She’s - not talking to me anymore!’ Tooth said, and sounded so frustrated, it almost made Aster smile. ‘But she passed along - she knows how to get in, she didn’t give me directions, but she knows where her sisters are, where the memories are. She’s still with him, but he’s… he’s going somewhere, she didn’t know where, but she’s still with him.’

Aster’s chest ached, from the Hope his two friends were radiating.

‘There was a globe,’ Tooth added. ‘In the lair. The lights are almost gone.’ She looked at Aster, eyes focussing. ‘What do we do?’

Aster swallowed, looked to Nick. Nick was watching them both intently, and shook his head.

‘I am unsure,’ he said, and Aster could have groaned from frustration himself. ‘But there is still hope. Jack is alive. And there are some believers still.’ Nick frowned. ‘We need to find Jack, but if he has run? May not be easiest task.’

‘What do we do, then?’ Aster demanded. ‘Me holiday is ruined. The memories are gone. Chrissy isn’t for months and months yet, and by then…’

They’d all survived, true - the knowledge was like sunlight in his chest - but they’d survived to die a slow, fading death. That was what happened when you were tied to belief like this. It was spreading, even now - he could feel the darkening of the hope in his chest against the bright light so recently instilled. Some people hoped. Some people gave up. It warred in him, outside of his control; their dim and decidedly foreshortened futures hung heavy in the air.

‘We return to Workshop,’ Nick said firmly. ‘We treat wounds.’ He looked at Tooth’s arm pointedly, and though Aster couldn’t see the telltale shadows that would mark an infection, his heart almost stopped at the thought. ‘We make  _ plan.  _ And then we fight Pitch until no breath is left in our lungs.’

Slowly, Tooth nodded, and Aster clenched his jaw before nodding as well. ‘To the end, then,’ he said, and reached up, clasping Nick’s shoulder in return. Tooth reached for Nick as well, and though it felt like they were trying to stretch to cover a great, gaping wound, there was some part of Aster that could see Sandy’s face, smiling and confident.

‘To the end,’ Nick and Tooth echoed.

Aster took a deep breath, and prayed that wherever Jack was, whatever was happening, that he was safe. That he wouldn’t have to see this end. And maybe - a touch selfishly - that Jack would miss him when it was over.

It was added to the _not thinking about it_ pile, and they left the lake behind.

  
  


Jack sped somewhere - anywhere - that wasn’t there. It was over. He’d failed Bunny - failed everything. God, he’d been an idiot; he should have known. The voice must have been some kind of trick, some awful bluff pulled out of Pitch’s ass to lure him off, and he’d fallen for it like the fuck up he was -

He sped on, and on.

Time passed; who knew how much. He was flying faster than he’d dared to in a long time, letting the Wind scream along as fast as she wished, and his body tossing about as she went. The only thing he was careful of was his middle, where Baby Tooth had crawled down to and even now huddled in the pocket of his sweatshirt, looking out with her wide blue and violet eyes. She was so small, so fragile, and Jack could never hurt her. Never willingly.

Then again, he’d promised himself he’d never - and he still had fallen short, not kept it  _ safe - _

Land passed by beneath, mountains, marsh, sea, island, sea again; rainforest, then steppe, then coast. Rocks crushed under the ocean’s weight. Sea once more.

The temperature dropped, colder and colder, until it began to tickle at the edge of Jack’s awareness. It was sunny here, and the light glinted off the snow and ice below. Antarctica was beautiful, in a sharp sense, and ugly in the same way. It was a great vast nothingness, and it suited Jack just fine.

The Wind deposited him atop a glacier that jutted high into the air, and he took a seat, swinging his legs over the great abyss that dropped below him.

Baby Tooth crawled out of his pocket, and immediately began to shiver.

‘Oh, no,’ he said, and set his staff aside, cupping his hands around her to at least block the gusts of wind coming off from the edge. She huddled into his fingers, but she looked up at him with clear eyes. ‘Is that better?’

She nodded.

‘I’m sorry, Baby Tooth,’ he said, and it came out hitched in the middle. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have - I forgot you wouldn’t -’ he sucked in a breath and almost choked on it. ‘I should have - should have stayed, should have been there -’

She patted his palm gently and shook her head, chirping softly at him. He began to smooth his thumb over the crest of her feathers, and she nuzzled into the touch. She chirped again.

He didn’t really know  _ how _ he understood Baby Tooth. It was just kind of - there, in context and widened eyes and little aborted gestures of hand.

‘It’s not okay, though,’ Jack protested, her reassurance like a pin in his heart. ‘It’s  _ not.  _ I should have been there, I should have been helping - and what was I doing? Chasing a voice that probably wasn’t even  _ real  _ -’

She chittered at him, scowling, and patted his sweatshirt pocket, reaching down to do so. The movement jostled the weight still occupying it; he’d forgotten about the cylinder.

‘I don’t even know what that is!’ Jack pointed out, more than a little exasperated.

She tapped her forehead, then thumped her tiny fist against her chest, then pointed at him. A quick, urgent trill.

‘I’ve never seen it before in my life,’ Jack said, bewildered. ‘It’s not mine.’

They only things he’d ever owned were the clothes on his back (not even the sweatshirt, stolen and repaired and held together as much by frost as it was by thread), and his staff. There was no way something so ornate and beautiful - so valuable - was his, especially if it was from Tooth’s palace.

She chirped, tapped her head, thumped her chest. Cupped her hands against her mouth and made a whispering sound.

‘My secret?’ Jack said slowly. ‘You mean - the not remembering, thing?’

She nodded, relieved. Repeated the same three actions: chirp, tap, thump.

‘It’s my…’ Jack said, but couldn’t finish the words.

The Guardians all guarded something. Everyone knew that. Jack wasn’t sure what they each guarded, precisely, but he knew that it wasn’t necessarily something physical. So who was to say that Tooth wouldn’t guard something more than  _ teeth -  _ Jack knew the eggs Bunny hid meant more than just chocolate, but had never been able to put his finger on what. Why presents? Why eggs? Why golden dream sand, why teeth?

Why not something  _ more? _

‘Do you mean - my memories?’ he managed to say at last. ‘The girl’s voice - she was from - my memories are in there?’

Baby Tooth nodded, such relief in her eyes, and she rose into the air, wings beating furiously to keep her aloft.

Jack stared at her. It was impossible. He had the answers to everything, right in his pocket, and -

She screamed.

It was the highest pitched noise Jack had ever heard in his life, and he reached for her immediately, but the movement was too slow. Black sand had wrapped around her waist, and whipped her away from him. He only just managed to snatch his staff up before the sand got him, and scrambled back, yelling for her, helpless.

Pitch rose from beneath like a tsunami, cresting into the glacier and sending black sand crashing up, a mockery of high tide. Jack pointed his staff at Pitch, snarling already, but then. Oh, god.

Pitch held up his hand, and Baby Tooth was wriggling in his fist, wide-eyed and terrified.

‘Ah, ah,’ Pitch said, smiling widely. ‘No sudden moves, Jack, or I’m afraid the little bird will break her pretty neck.’

Jack froze.

‘That’s better,’ Pitch tutted. He strolled over, comfortable as if he stood in summer sunlight and not the freezing air of the Antarctic, and Jack didn’t move, just let Pitch circle him. ‘You have been such a  _ problem _ child, haven’t you, Jack?’ he asked. He clearly didn’t expect an answer, as it was immediately followed with a long sigh. ‘For years, now, you have interfered. You didn’t even know you were doing it, did you? Just thought you were doing the right thing.’

Jack hadn’t realised the phrase ‘the right thing’ could rhyme with so many nasty words. Must be the way Pitch said it.

‘You’ve made your position absolutely clear,’ Pitch continued. ‘Once, I thought you could be swayed. The things I could have given you, Jack! Power! Believers! A place in the world that has so harshly rejected you!’

‘That was your fault,’ Jack replied, and flinched when Baby Tooth gave a pained squeak.

‘Ah, yes, the rumours. I  _ did _ hear you wrangled that out of the sprites; do not worry. They have been disposed of.’

Jack just breathed. He hated the sprites, more than could be said, but he’d never  _ killed _ them. Pitch, from what he could see, killed like he breathed.

‘It is so easy to whisper in the right ears,’ Pitch murmured. ‘Even in the Guardians’ ears, if you know the right of it. Tell me - what  _ must  _ they think of you, now? That ridiculous wizard thought you were quite the troublemaker. And, my, did the Tooth Fairy want your head on a platter! You don’t really think a few days where you didn’t do much of anything would change their minds, do you?’

Jack grit his teeth.

‘I did want to thank you, though,’ Pitch added, and shrugged, laconic. ‘You all but made my efforts unnecessary. Seemed most of the world disliked you for one reason or another anyway. If you had just listened a little more - been a little less self-absorbed - why, we could have made quite the team!’

‘Never,’ Jack spat, unable to stop himself. ‘You’re a bad person. I’m - I’m not great,’ Jack faltered, but swallowed and steeled his nerve. ‘I’m not great, but I’m not bad. I don’t have to be. And I won’t let you make me.’

He didn’t dare lift his staff higher, but he tightened his grip. ‘I might not stop you, but I don’t mind beating you up before the Guardians squash you. Make it a little easier on them, yeah?’

‘Such a shame,’ Pitch simpered. ‘And here I thought you valued the little fairy’s life. So noble of you, to sacrifice her for your cause.’

Pitch’s hand tightened, and Jack threw out a hand before he could think, terror rising up from his bones. ‘No, stop!’

‘Ah,’ Pitch said, sounding very satisfied. He circled Jack again, and held Baby Tooth up. ‘Let me make you a deal then, Jack. You’re remarkably reasonable when someone you love is on the line.’ He came around to the front once more. ‘Stay out of this, and I will let her live. Give me your staff, and I’ll give you the fairy. I’ll even give you a moment to think -’

Jack’s staff clattered on the ground at Pitch’s feet. Pitch blinked down at it. Looked back up to Jack.

‘Give her back,’ Jack said through grit teeth. His hands felt empty without his staff, like he’d thrown away his arm, but he didn’t care. ‘They’ll kick your ass without me, they’ve done it before. Give. Her. _ Back.’ _

‘And you will sacrifice the world for a fairy who means nothing,’ Pitch said, voice soft. He bent and picked up the staff. It looked wrong in his hand. ‘How very like your kind.’

‘Give her  _ back,’ _ Jack snapped. ‘I gave you my staff, you got what you want! Let her go!’

‘You know,’ Pitch said thoughtfully, bracing the staff against his knee. ‘I don’t think I will.’

With a great crack, he snapped the staff in half. Jack’s ears were ringing, and he was on the ground, and he realised the noise that still echoed in his head was his own scream.

He’d never hurt so much in his life. Not in ‘70, not in ‘82, not ever. It felt like Pitch had reached inside his chest and snapped something precious, something untouchable, in half. It burned, and it ached, and it froze, and Jack knew he was sobbing but was unable to stop it.

‘That should take care of that,’ Pitch said, smug. ‘Now, for the -’

Another scream, closer to a shriek, and Jack looked up to see Baby Tooth had stabbed her needle-like nose into Pitch’s hand. Pitch threw her, and though it took every piece of strength Jack had, pulled on that central hurt so hard that he almost screamed again, he reached up and caught her in a gentle palm.

‘Are you alright?’ he gasped out at her, the words more air than sound, and she nodded weakly. ‘Good. That’s good.’

Something jabbed him in the middle - the sharp end of his own staff, he realised - and flipped him back, sending him tumbling and careening down the long, steep slope of the glacier. For one sickening moment, there was nothing underneath him  _ (no Wind to catch him, where was the Wind, why couldn’t she hear him -)  _ and then he slammed into snow and hard rock beneath. The air was frigid, even by his standards; he’d landed in a crevasse.

‘I had thought to save you for last, but I’m afraid I simply can’t take that risk. I think I’ll keep this, to remember you by,’ Pitch called down, voice echoing off the walls of the crevasse. Above him, hazy though his vision was, he could see Pitch dangling the staff teasingly over the edge. ‘Don’t you worry, Jack - I’ll make sure to show the others before I kill them! Wouldn’t do any good to leave them some hope before the end.’

The statement was still ringing in Jack’s head long after Pitch left.

It felt like years, but eventually there was a wriggling motion beneath his right hand, and he lifted his fingers, his entire body screaming at the movement. Baby Tooth popped her head out and chirped at him, shivering even in the comparably warm cage of his fingers.

‘Hey, Baby Tooth,’ he rasped out. She wiggled free, entire body shuddering as the cold air hit her. ‘No, don’t - stay where it’s warm,’ he said, to no avail. ‘I’ll be - I’ll be okay, I’ll get us out -’

She ignored him, and crawled down to his pocket, where she began to tug. Her wings worked, but could no longer lift her, and Jack was zero help.

Slowly, she tugged the golden cylinder free, and dragged it up before curling back into the curve of his palm. It rested, heavy and accusing, on his chest.

‘I don’t think that’s gonna help us,’ Jack said, taking care with the words so they didn’t slur. His jaw hurt to move. Everything hurt to move. He wished, very briefly, that Bunny was here, but he shoved it away. Bunny had his own problems. He didn’t need to worry about Jack. If he even would, now that Jack had ultimately failed to protect his holiday.

Baby Tooth made a hissing noise, and poked him hard in the hand. She then proceeded to chatter at him for ten seconds straight without breath, looking more and more vexed as she went.

‘Okay, okay,’ he said when she drew breath at last. ‘Okay. What do you want me to do with it?’

She mimed sitting up. Jack winced, then sucked in a harsh breath at the way that made his abdomen tense up. She looked sympathetic, but mimed it again.

Slowly, so slowly that it was almost bearable, Jack pushed himself up. Baby Tooth directed him, and after scooting half a foot, Jack’s back met stone. It was freezing, but it propped him up.

‘Okay,’ he repeated when he could breath again. ‘What now?’

She dragged his hand with her, up to the cylinder, and wrapped his hand around it, tucking the fingers in. Try to not think about the pain of it, Jack lifted his other hand and cupped it around her. She was still shuddering, full body shivers, but they were lessened, just a little, when she had something to break the draft of freezing air.

She chirped at him, insistent.

‘Yeah, I got it,’ Jack said, firming his fingers.

Baby Tooth nodded, smiled encouragingly, and brushed her  _ (small, so small)  _ fingers over the little face at one end.

Light, bright white and stunning, and then -

  
  


_ ‘Jack!’ a little girl shouted from beneath a great tall tree, long dark hair blowing in the breeze that never seemed to leave him alone, ‘Ma says to come down or you’ll break your neck and then where will she be -’ _

_ ‘Jack!’ a little girl laughed as he picked her up and swung her around, she was younger than the last time but the right size to twirl and lift up, ‘Jack! Love Jack -’ _

_ ‘Jack!’ a little girl shrieked as he chased her over the hill, ‘Come on, or we’re going to be late -’ _

_ ‘Jack!’ a little girl sang, weaving flowers into his brown hair, so like hers, like their mother’s, ‘Jack, King of Green, when the leaves all fall he’s still a-spring -’ _

_ ‘Jack!’ Ice crack, and Jack held still. _

_ He should have known it would be too warm, too late, but he loved to ice skate, he loved the lake and how it froze over, and he’d thought - it didn’t matter what he’d thought. She was in danger. _

_ ‘It’s okay, it’s okay!’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘Don’t look down, just look at me.’ _

_ ‘Jack,’ she sobbed, ‘I’m scared!’ She was. He was, too, but he needed not to show it. _

_ ‘I - I know, I know, but you’re going to be alright, you’re not going to fall in,’ he tried to reassure her. The cold water beneath was a death sentence, he knew, and she needed to hold still - unless. ‘Uh. We’re going to have a little fun, instead!’ _

_ ‘No, we’re not!’ she wailed, but even if that was true, Jack had to hold on. _

_ ‘Would I trick you?’ he asked, and immediately regretted it. _

_ ‘Yes! You  _ always _ play tricks!’ _

_ Jack laughed, knew it sounded nervous, tried to ignore it. ‘Well, alright. Not - not this time, I promise. You’re going to - you’re going to be fine. You have to believe in me.’ _

_ She gulped, but nodded. _

_ ‘You want to play a game?’ Jack asked desperately. ‘We’re going to play hopscotch, like we play everyday!’ He smiled at her, and she smiled back, wobbly. ‘It’s as easy as one - whoa!’ The ice cracked a little under his barefoot, so cold it hurt, and he almost fell over before catching himself. She laughed a little, and his heart soared. ‘Two!’ he hopped over again, and she laughed a little louder. ‘Three!’ and he was clear of the thin ice, he could see it now, could see how close she was to safety and yet so far away. _

_ There was a stick nearby, shaped with a hook at the end, just like a shepherd’s crook. Jack snapped it up, and silently sent a prayer to God, a thank you. It was precisely what he needed. _

_ ‘Alright,’ he said, turning back to her. ‘Now it’s your turn. One -’ and the ice cracked a little more, her eyes went wide, ‘That’s it, that’s it,’ he extended the stick as she whimpered in fear, ‘- twothree!’ _

_ He hooked her with the crook of the stick and swung with all the strength in his body, slingshotting her across to the thicker ice. His feet slid, so cold they no longer even felt anything, and he knew he was over the thin ice that he’d just saved her from. He could feel it bending beneath his feet. _

_ He smiled, anyway, and she smiled back for just an instant. _

_ The ice cracked, he dropped down, she reached out - _

_ ‘JACK -!’ _

  
  


A chirp.

Jack blinked open his eyes, and saw Baby Tooth standing on his cheek, peering at him.

There was a - such a  _ lightness  _ in him now, wild and free and certain, so certain at last. He knew, now, and the faint mist that had always been in his brain and he’d never quite paid attention to was clearing, and he felt like - he felt like -

‘Did you see that?!’ he asked, and his voice was stronger, too.

Baby Tooth shook her head, and squeaked when he sat up, falling into his outstretched palm. The pain was still there, but it was distant, now - after-aches, almost.

‘I had a sister!’ he said, bringing Baby Tooth back up near his face. ‘I had a mother, I had  _ family -  _ I was  _ alive,  _ Baby Tooth! I was  _ real!’ _

He’d never said it aloud, never acknowledged it even in his own head, but he’d been so  _ scared  _ for so  _ long. _ Terrified that everything everyone else said was true - that he  _ was _ just an expression, stitched together from careless words and able to disappear in a puff of air at any moment. And now -  _ now _ -

His gaze lifted, up to the sliver of sky that he could see through the crevasse opening, and saw the Moon twinkling above.

‘You and I are going to have a long talk someday about  _ asking someone with words,’ _ Jack called up, but so much of the anger was just gone. The Moon had still abandoned him, still left alone with no answers, but Jack had been  _ chosen.  _ From the beginning. For doing the right thing.  _ He wasn’t what anyone said he was. _

His own words to Pitch smacked him in the face. ‘I’m not bad,’ he murmured, and Baby Tooth chirped in agreement. ‘I don’t have to be. And I won’t let them make me.’

Baby Tooth chirped again, and she sounded so proud, Jack felt his throat close up.

‘Come on,’ he said, and got to his feet, tucking the memory box safely away in his pocket. He was still a little wobbly, but there was something in him now, some old hurt healed over at long last, and it outweighed the damage Pitch had done. He hurt, still. But he no longer felt like he was dying.

He’d been running and running for days, for years, ever since he’d risen from under the ice. He’d run from Tooth’s palace, run from the caves, run from the destroyed and damning Easter. Run from the Guardians, from Pitch, from  _ Bunny. _

The first person who hadn’t dismissed him. Maybe not the first person to hug him - he’d decided, and Baby Tooth’s hug just before definitely counted - but the first person to ask, to reach out. And Jack had run from that, when Bunny had needed him most.

Jack took a deep breath. ‘Looks like I’ve got a lot to make up for,’ he said, and Baby Tooth looked at him, puzzled but trusting. ‘I’ve got - well, it’s kind of a plan, sort of,’ Jack said. ‘You with me?’

She nodded, determined. He loved her for it, and for a moment, he saw another little face, brown eyes determined, scared, loving - a half-remembered song from a spring afternoon danced in his head -

‘Emma,’ he said, blinking. ‘Her name was Emma.’

A questioning chirp.

‘Nothing,’ Jack said, shaking his head. ‘Come on, into the hood, we’re going to get you somewhere warm for a bit. Then -’ he grinned. It felt right on his face. ‘Oh, man, this is going to be fun.’ He took a deep breath, and lifted his face to the sky again. ‘Hey, Wind! Take me home!’

Like she’d been waiting for him, patiently watching for when he finally had his shit together, the Wind screamed down and scooped him up. What little control he had of her was gone with the staff, but she knew what to do anyway, and bore him up into the waiting sunlight.

They sped due north, and if Jack had thought they were going fast before, he’d been dead wrong. He almost couldn’t see the ground below, it was blurring, and so he focussed on Baby Tooth, curled up into his neck.

‘Hey, Baby Tooth?’

She trilled at him in answer.

‘Can you - I dunno, talk to your mom? Is she even your mom?’

A chirp and a distinct tweet that sounded as close to the word  _ no _ as Jack imagined the fairy ever got.

‘Okay, whatever she is. Can you tell her -’ Jack swallowed. ‘Tell her I’m coming, and tell the others.’

A moment of silence, then another chirp, sounding urgent and frustrated. Jack winced.

‘That mad, huh?’

A commiserating whistle.

‘We’re making a stop, first,’ Jack added.

Baby Tooth poked him with her nose and trilled a question.

‘I know they can’t fly, but we’re freeing all of your sisters first,’ Jack said firmly. ‘I don’t want them locked in there in case - well, you know.’

Silence, and then Baby Tooth hugged the side of his neck.

Jack lifted his shoulder a bit, to make her perch more secure and press her tightly back, and they flew on. Night fell. The Moon followed them, never once leaving the sky.

Over Burgess, over the lake  _ (it  _ was  _ his lake, he’d died in it, now he knew why no one else had tried to claim it even though he never had),  _ and down into the deep hole they went - only, it didn’t seem so dark, now, or so frightening. Jack wondered why that was, then dismissed it. He didn’t much care at the moment.

The cage he’d opened last time was still full of fairies, all of whom stared at him with their wide eyes. ‘Come on, guys, I’m breaking you free,’ Jack said softly. They twitched their wings and cried out again. ‘I know,’ Jack replied, ‘but you can at least -’ he looked around, and his eyes widened. ‘Protect the memories, yeah?’ he said, and slowly, they nodded. ‘Come on, you can do it -’

He opened cage after cage, thousands of fairies staring at him, unmoving - they were frightened, and he didn’t blame them. Still, he waveda hand at them, an they didn’t even respond. ‘Why aren’t you moving?’ he demanded, frustrated. ‘Come on, guys -’

Baby Tooth chirped urgently in his ear, and he turned, looking at the massive globe. The realisation struck him like a body blow: the fairies weren’t looking at him. 

On the globe, the lights were going out, one by one - there were less than ten, now. He flew over, horrified, watching them.

One in Africa, extinguished. Two in Europe, gone. One in South America, one in Laos, and then -

One light. Pennsylvania. He knew that spot. Knew where it was, knew it was nearby.

He touched it gently. ‘Jaime,’ he said, and turned.

‘Okay, you guys,’ he said, just loud enough for all the fairies to hear. ‘Stay here, stay safe - we’ll be back for you, I promise,’ he added hastily, at the soft chorus of frightened twitters. ‘We  _ will _ be back.’

Baby Tooth chirped, excitedly.

‘They’re coming,’ Jack said with some relief. ‘That’s good.’ He looked over them all. ‘We’re coming back. Protect the memories, okay? You guys know - know how important they are.’ He swallowed. He knew now, too.

One fairy nodded, then another. Soon, there was a chorus of chirps and tweets that said more than he could ever put into words on his own, and he smiled at them all. ‘Let’s get moving!’ he said, and sped towards the exit.

Back through the tunnels (and they were just tunnels, now, albeit dark, Jack wondered that he’d  _ ever _ been afraid of them), into the night air - he just hoped he’d figured this out before Pitch, could get there first -

And, there! There was the window!

Jack crouched down on the sill, Baby Tooth peering through the glass with him.

Inside, Jaime sat on his bed, holding a stuffed rabbit up and squinting at it like it had all the answers. Jack could hear him through the glass, and his heart hurt when the words registered.

‘...what’s gonna happen,’ he said, shaking the rabbit a bit and a stern look on his little face. ‘If - if it wasn’t a dream, right, and you’re real - you have to prove it. You told me to stay here, so you could go save your friend, and I did! I did what you said!’

His little voice went soft, so much so that Jack strained to hear it. ‘I believed in you for so long,’ Jaime begged. ‘My whole life - all eight years, okay? That’s a lot! So you kind of owe me now. Any sign, anything. Please?’

A moment passed, and nothing happened. Jaime dropped the stuffed rabbit to the bed, and Jack did the only thing he could do.

It was hard, without the staff, but he opened the window and slid inside. Jaime whipped around at the soft rattling sound, brown eyes wide in the gloom.

‘What?’ he whispered.

Gently, as gently as he could when it felt like he had no control of the frost beneath his skin, Jack frosted the window over, and drew with a clumsy finger an egg. Two squiggles, some dots.

‘No way,’ Jaime breathed.

Another windowpane, iced over, and though its lines were a little crooked, Jack was pretty proud of the rabbit he sketched out. Then, unsure if it would do it without the fine control of the staff, he pulled with his magic.

The rabbit smoothed out, to his relief, and bounded off of the window into the room, hopping about through the air as easily as if it was on the ground. Jaime laughed with delight. ‘You’re real!’ he said aloud, ‘the Easter Bunny’s really real!’ He reached out to touch it, but it dodged his fingers only to nip his nose. It dissolved into a quick spray of snow, and Jaime laughed again in surprise. Jack sighed in relief, closing his eyes; one believer. One, but he still believed.

‘Snow…’ he heard Jaime say. ‘Wait. Mom said - Jack Frost?’

Jack’s eyes snapped open, and Jaime had spun around to face the other side of the room, looking around wildly towards his door.

‘He didn’t,’ Jack said faintly.

Jaime spun back around, so quickly he toppled towards the floor near the window. Jack lunged forward, a reflex that he knew was no good, but he had to  _ try - _

Only, his hands closed on a soft night shirt, small arms beneath, and he almost stumbled with the surprise of weight.

Jaime was staring through him.

‘Jack Frost?’ he whispered.

Not through him.  _ At him. _

Jack swallowed. ‘Can…’ he started, lost his nerve, summoned it up again. ‘Can you hear me?’

Jaime nodded, mouth open.

‘Can you see me?’

Jaime nodded again. ‘You’re Jack Frost,’ he whispered, still staring. ‘You’re real.’

Jack couldn’t help it - he laughed, just a little, only it wasn’t a little, it was a lot, and Jaime was laughing with him, and oh  _ god  _ someone could  _ see him.  _ ‘I’m real!’ Jack gasped out at last.

‘And the others - the Tooth Fairy, Santa, the Easter Bunny -’ Jaime sputtered between his own giggles.

‘Real, real, real!’ Jack answered, giddy with it. ‘We’re all real, all of us, I promise -’

‘Were you who they went to find? I knew they were really in my room! I knew I didn’t make it up!’

Jack nodded, even though something hurt at the thought of Sandy. ‘I was one of them,’ he agreed, and sat Jaime back up. ‘We’re real, I promise you, all of us -’

‘You made it  _ snow!  _ In my room!’

‘I make it snow all the time! Remember the sled?’

Jaime’s eyes lit up. ‘That was  _ you?’ _

‘That was me!’

‘Oh, man, you’re the  _ coolest - _ ’

‘Jaime!’ a woman’s voice called through the door, and they both froze. ‘Who are you talking to?’

With zero hesitation, Jaime hollered back, ‘Jack Frost!’ It was one of the best things Jack had ever heard.

‘That’s nice, but you still have school in the morning!’ she said back, sounding amused. ‘Go to sleep, before you wake up Sophie.’

‘Ugh, little sisters,’ Jaime grouched, but it didn’t last; soon, he was back to beaming at Jack like he was the greatest thing in the world.

‘I like little sisters,’ Jack replied, smiling fondly. Jaime rolled his eyes, and opened his mouth to say something, when there was a loud crashing noise outside.

‘What was that?’ Jaime asked, already getting up, but Baby Tooth chittered from the safety of Jack’s hood. He knew who was out there.

‘Come on,’ Jack said, hopping up to the window. ‘I can prove they’re real.’

Jaime nodded, standing up, and Jack held out his hand. Jaime took it, brave kid that he was, and let Jack pick him up until he was safely tucked under one arm.

Jaime gasped when Jack leapt down, the Wind buffering them, but whooped quietly when they landed safely on the street. ‘That’s so cool,’ Jaime whispered, and Jack grinned at him, setting him down. Then, he gasped again. ‘Is that Santa’s  _ sleigh?’ _

‘That’s it!’ he heard North say as Jaime began to run over. He followed a little more slowly, nerves getting the better of him for a minute. ‘My magic is gone!’ Reindeer scattered, and Jack ducked back as one tried to trample him.

‘Oh, there’s Jack!’ he heard Tooth say, and he turned, shoulders hunching a little. She was leaning out of the sleigh, eyes wide. ‘He’s alright! He’s okay! He - oh, dear. Jaime?’

‘Cooooool,’ Jaime said, the word drawn out as he approached.

‘The last light,’ North said reverently, but Jack wasn’t paying attention; he’d noticed who was missing.

‘It’s you!’ Jaime said, oblivious to the sudden tension, bounding up to the sleigh. ‘You’re really real!’ he spun on his heel, laughing, looking to Jack. ‘I know you said they were, but they’re real! It wasn’t a dream!’

North and Tooth fell still. ‘He can see you?’ Tooth said.

‘What? Uh, yeah,’ Jack said, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart and unsure of if he wanted to ask his next question. ‘Where’s -’ he forced himself to continue. ‘Where’s Bunny?’

North’s face grew solemn, and for a moment, Jack’s heart sank. Easter hadn’t - oh, god, what if it had been enough to -?

Then, thank god, there was a scrabbling noise, and a grey blur leapt up and out of the sleigh, racing towards Jack, who caught it on reflex against his chest.

‘Starlight and  _ darkshine,  _ Jack!’ The grey bundle of fur shouted, and Jack stumbled back in surprise.

‘Bunny?’

  
  


‘Who in the hell do ye  _ think _ I am?’ Aster demanded, claws buried in the fabric of Jack’s sweatshirt and clinging for dear life. Jack was alive. Jack was  _ alive _ and he came  _ back _ and Aster had no idea of if he was furious or relieved, anxious or so happy he felt like each breath sang out from his chest. ‘Do ye have any idea how worried I was?’ he yelled, and Jack winced, the movement telegraphed through Aster’s tiny paws. ‘Frostbite, we had no idea where ye were, only that ye’d gone - I’d thought ye  _ died,  _ ye great ratbag, I thought I’d  _ lost _ ye, and then ye ran off, and ye could have been halfway to  _ Andromeda  _ for all I knew -’

‘Why are you a rabbit?’ Jack interrupted, looking stunned.

Aster shuddered a bit, knew Jack could feel it, since his hands cradled the entirety of Aster’s body now. It had not been a comfortable change, but it had been a last-ditch effort, and he didn’t regret it so much as he was embarrassed by it. ‘Easter lost us most every believer,’ he said, trying his best to make it sound matter-of-fact rather than painful. ‘Energy conservation, mate.’

Jack folded to the ground, making Aster yelp a little as he went, and stared at him with such loss that it made his heart ache. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I - that’s my fault, I should have been there, I - I cost you all your believers, just because I -’

‘Not all of them!’ Jaime piped in unexpectedly, and both Jack and Bunny looked up, startled. ‘I’m right here!’ The tyke smiled with the obliviousness of youth, and said with a grin, ‘He made me believe in you. In all of you!’ He scrambled over and crouched down next to Jack, peering at Aster. ‘You especially. I was about to - I thought maybe it had been a dream,’ he said. ‘When you told me to stay, to keep me safe. I’m sorry I almost stopped believing in you,’

‘It’s alright,’ Aster said on autopilot, but his brain had stuttered to a halt.

The  _ not thinking about it _ pile had spilled over at last, buried him deep, the great number of reactions and thoughts and emotions hitting him all at once. Even as he looked at Jack, internally he was shrieking.

_ Him?  _ he demanded of his own heart, knowing it was futile.  _ Now? Of all the bloody ratbag timing - _

But of course it was Jack. Had been Jack for some time, probably, and Aster was just too daft to read the signs. Probably from the first, from ‘68. The way Aster had let him into his Warren in ‘70, nervous, yes, but trusting him in the place no one had stepped into in centuries. More than once, even. The way he’d chosen Jack over his Guardian duty when the alarms had rang, the way he’d tended Jack’s wounds himself instead of letting a yeti handle it and finding out why the aurora had gone off, the tenseness when Jack ran that first time, the lack of fear even high in the air - and then - the hug and the worrying and the -

Aster realised abruptly that he’d been staring at Jack, flabbergasted, for well over half a minute, and Jack was just staring back, looking more and more hurt as the seconds passed. Aster realised that Jack must think Aster didn’t believe him, didn’t believe he would do that; that couldn’t be borne.

‘No, no - ye’re not - ye’re fine, Jack,’ Aster finally managed to stutter out. ‘I - thank ye, I just -’

Jack’s face fell into lines of understanding, and Aster swallowed, because Jack  _ didn’t _ understand. Couldn’t understand. How on earth could Aster explain  _ I fell in love with ye,  _ or that  _ Pooka love once in our long lives,  _ or even more pressingly _ I never thought I’d find ye here, on this planet, in this time. I never thought I’d find ye at all _ ? How could anyone explain that?

‘You’re welcome, Cottontail,’ Jack said softly, and then with awkward motions, unsure of how to do this (and didn’t that just make Aster’s heart ache worse), lifted Aster up and hugged him against his chest.

Aster, unable to help himself, nestled in near, clinging with claws hooked in fabric in lieu of arms to return the favour.

A huge thunderclap shook the air, and Aster flinched, Jack’s hands pressing him tightly to his chest.

‘Pitch!’ Tooth gasped out, the sky darkening even further from its night hues, and Aster shuddered; like this, they were done for. At least they would die fighting. At least Aster would die  _ knowing. _

‘Hey, come on,’ Jack’s voice cajoled, and Aster looked up, startled. ‘Don’t give up hope yet, Bun-bun.’

Aster’s nose twitched, and he spared the brief second he needed to think that he wished Jack’s annoying nicknames didn’t feel quite so much like pet names. Still. ‘Still got hope in ye, then?’ Aster asked, and opened himself to the sense of hope in his chest.

Earlier, when he’d shifted into this tiny form, he’d closed off that part of him. It felt like losing a limb, paralysed and weighty, but he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to feel the darkness creeping in from all corners of the globe.

Now - it blazed in him, the lights small but even fiercer for their smallness. Jaime, still crouched beside them; Tooth and Nick, behind them; Baby Tooth, still tucked into Jack’s hood; Jack himself, and it was like sitting beside a bonfire, it was so warm.

‘Course I do,’ Jack replied, grinning. ‘We’re the Guardians, yeah? Can’t give up yet.’

Aster heard Tooth’s soft gasp, even over the rolling, incoming thunder, Nick’s comparatively quiet intake of breath. Aster, for his part, just stared. He wasn’t sure he was breathing

‘I’ve got a plan, but we’re going to need some more believers,’ Jack said, still grinning, and looked over to Jaime. ‘You up for an adventure, Jaime?’

‘I’ve been waiting for this my whole life,’ Jaime replied, solemn, but there was still an excitement in him Aster could see in the way he all but vibrated.

‘Awesome,’ Jack said, and shifted Aster’s weight, so he could push playfully at Jaime’s shoulder. ‘Let’s go get your friends, then!’

Jack stood up, and Aster yelped at the sudden movement. He scrambled up and into Jack’s hood on instinct, wriggling around, and he shared a quick look with Baby Tooth. She covered her mouth, but he still heard a giggle. He scowled.

‘Stay there, Bugs, and hold on,’ Jack commanded. He eyed the sleigh, then picked up Jaime and deftly tossed him. He went with a great shout of laughter, and North caught him with a bewildered expression, almost fumbling him. ‘Let’s get moving!’ Jack said, and gestured with a hand  _ (where has his staff got to? _ Aster wondered, hunched over his shoulder). ‘Sophie first!’

Then. Oh, suns and  _ stars - _

Aster did not like flying. Historically, it went very poorly. Much less flight so uncontrolled and juddering, and Aster had no idea if this was how Jack flew all the time, or if there was something wrong, but  _ he did not like it one bit. _

He tried to keep his swearing to a minimum, soft and in Jack’s ear, but Jack was laughing every few seconds at him, which sort of ruined the point of it.

Ice guided the sleigh down the roads, moving quickly this way and that all over Burgess as Jaime shouted directions, and one by one, they acquired other children. Jaime and the tiny Sophie sat so far up in the sleigh that they were almost bounced out of it multiple times, laughing and giggling and having the time of their lives. Aster had no idea what Jack planned to do with the tots, but as their eyes realised what was happening, as their belief returned to them in great bursts of surprise, Aster could feel it in his chest, strength returning in gentle waves. One by one, they were roused and loaded into the sleigh, each of them looking a bit stunned but a lot excited, and he could feel Jack’s flight steadying beneath him, the kids staring in his direction with wide eyes.

‘They can see ye, Frostbite,’ he said, loudly to be heard over the wind.

‘I know!’ Jack said back, laughing, but there was such giddy glee in it that Aster chuckled with him.

Faster and faster they went, and overhead the great clouds of corrupted dreamsand billowed, and for one second, just one, Aster pressed his muzzle against the side of Jack’s neck, hidden from Baby Tooth’s view, his small lips pursed in imitation of a kiss. The best he could do, under the circumstances.

‘You alright there, Bun-bun?’ Jack asked, curving through one last turn beside the sleigh, into a wide clearing of road - a good battlefield, Aster noted with some pride. No training, but Jack had good instincts.

‘Been better,’ Aster replied, pulling away a bit, twitching his ear so that it brushed against Jack’s. ‘Let’s get this over with, Frostbite.’

‘I like that plan,’ Jack laughed.

The sleigh spun and came to a halt, and Jack landed, graceful as ever, on the front of the sleigh.

Aster and Baby Tooth both left the hood, and Baby Tooth stumbled down the long line of Jack’s arm to his hand, where he held her out to Tooth.

‘Think I’ve got something of yours,’ Jack said, cheekily.

Tooth reached out, fingers trembling, and Baby Tooth leapt from Jack’s hand to hers. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, bringing Baby Tooth up to her face and cuddling her near. ‘You’re  _ wonderful,  _ Jack.’

Jack coughed, uncomfortable. It was very quiet, but Aster could feel it, resting in the crook of Jack’s elbow,

‘Cooool,’ one of the tots said from her seat, red hair tucked behind her ear. Jack grinned at that.

‘I find myself unsurprised to see you here,’ drawled an unpleasantly slick voice from the shadows. Aster’s ears swivelled before his head, and so he missed the precise minute where Pitch slinked out, but it was impossible to miss what he held in his hands. ‘Even so, I assure you, it  _ is  _ a disappointment.’

Pitch tossed the halves of Jack’s staff off to the side, looking disgusted with them. ‘Couldn’t you have died in your hole like a good little coward?’ he snarled. ‘You have no place here, boy!’

Jack snarled back, the sound ripping through the air, tilted forward - and, short of Aster who still sat in his arms, squarely between Pitch and the rest of them. ‘My  _ place,’ _ Jack spat, ‘is between you and whoever you’re trying to hurt.’

‘And mine,’ Aster added, bracing his paws on Jack’s forearm.

‘Mine, as well,’ Nick said, at the precise moment Tooth went to say, ‘Mine, too!’

Nick and Tooth bracketed either side of Jack, and Aster thought that, despite their ragged state (Nick’s faded strength, his own changed size, Jack’s lack of staff and Tooth’s lack of flight), they still radiated the fierceness, the protection that they’d sworn to uphold. Whether officially, as had Nick, Tooth, and himself, or by his own damn choice, like Jack.

All their choices, and even if the oath he’d taken didn’t hang above his head he’d still be here, Aster thought. A lot had changed in the last five hundred years. He wasn’t so good at hiding from his problems, any longer.

‘How very, very sweet,’ Pitch sneered.

‘Who is he?’ whispered Jaime from behind them, and Aster realised the tyke was holding onto the edge of Jack’s sweatshirt, peering between him and Nick on his left. Sophie was pressed to his side, staring.

‘The Boogeyman,’ Jack replied, not moving his gaze from Pitch.

‘He’s real, too?’

There was fear in his voice, but beyond that, a curiosity - no wonder he’d held onto his belief when all others lost hope, Aster marvelled. Nick must feel the Wonder something fierce.

‘He’s real, too,’ Aster said softly, and looked down, wiggling a bit to see Jaime better, trusting the others to keep Pitch in their sights.

Jaime swallowed. ‘I’m scared,’ he said, and it was almost more a statement of fact than of emotion - puzzled.

Still, Jack flinched, even as Pitch began to smile, a languid and infuriating curl of lip.

‘As you should be,’ Pitch murmured. Slunk even closer. All around, the black sand began to creep in, and Aster pressed nearer, his own fear in his throat, even as he fought it. Jack’s arm tightened around him, and Aster found his words again.

‘There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, Jaime,’ he said, voice firm. ‘So long as ye don’t let it stop ye.’

Jack nodded, slowly. When Aster looked back up, there was an expression on his face - a new light in his eyes, a new tilt of determination to his head.

‘Yeah,’ he murmured, almost too soft to hear. ‘Don’t let it stop you. Got it.’ Then, louder, he said, ‘It’s okay, Jaime. We’re going to have a little fun.’

‘Fun?’ Jaime said, dubious. Sophie echoed the word.

Jack began to smile. ‘Course,’ he laughed, and the sound was bright, startling in the looming darkness. ‘Would I trick you?’

Then, in one swift movement, he set Aster down on the lip of the sleigh, lifted his free hand, and gave what looked like a wicked curveball directly at Pitch.

Aster snapped his head around - what had Jack had in his hand? - but was only just fast enough to see the aftermath: a slushy snowball, straight to Pitch’s face.

Ah. Explained the toss.

Silence filled the air, seemingly caged in by the rising sand, and then there was a giggle.

Jaime clapped his hand over his mouth, looking mortified, but Jack was grinning. Pitch just looked stunned.

‘Let’s go!’ Jack said, laughter in each syllable, and took to the air, diving forward. The sand leapt after him, and blue light like sunlight through glacial walls deflected it.

Nick began to laugh, too, and withdrew his swords, metal flashing silverbright in the darkness. ‘To the end!’ he shouted, and to Aster’s surprise vaulted over the sleigh after Jack; not an hour ago, he’d needed Tooth’s help just to clamber into the sleigh. He threw two snowglobes, and from them came rushing yetis, hammering away at the encroaching sand.

Tooth’s wings began to whirr, and she lifted into the air. ‘I can fly again!’ she said, joyous, and Baby Tooth chittered from her shoulder, taking off. ‘Find your sisters!’ she said to the fairy, before twisting around and looking at the children and Aster. ‘Keep them safe, Bunny - I have an idea!’

‘The memories?’ Aster asked, mind racing along.

‘Exactly - if we can just remind everyone why they believed in us in the first place -’

‘Their belief will come back!’ Aster finished, and her Hope was sweet in his chest. ‘Go, I’ve got the tinlids!’

She took off after Nick and Jack, beginning to laugh herself as her fairy zoomed off, and Aster turned to the kids, who stared at him, wide eyed. Sophie was squinting at him, as if frankly unsure if he was the same person she’d seen only the night before.

‘What can we do?’ Jaime asked, clearly the ringleader.

‘Believe,’ Aster answered. Then, a flash of blue - Jack’s magic, still wild and untamed - flickered past, and he remembered the staff. Jack had always had it, long as Aster had known him, and the two halves said a lot about why Jack’s magic was so erratic; if they could just get it back to Jack... ‘Though, if ye wanna get a little more hands-on, I’ve got an idea of me own.’

‘Come on!’ said the heavy-set girl in the back. Aster liked the look in her eyes, tough and fierce and so full of hope, and he smiled at her. ‘Tell us!’

‘Follow me, and be  _ careful,’  _ Aster warned. ‘Jack’ll have me for soup if any of ye get hurt.’

Jaime reached out and, resigned to his fate at the moment (he didn’t dare change back just yet, with so little power available to him), Aster hopped up.

‘Did ye see where the staff went?’ he urged as the kids leapt from the sled; the sand ignored them, pouring towards the other Guardians, growing hooves and manes and snapping teeth as it went. Jaime looked a little ill, and he stared at it for a moment. ‘Focus on me,’ Aster said, and Jaime’s eyes snapped back to him. ‘Remember - it’s okay to be scared -’

‘So long as it doesn’t stop me,’ Jaime finished. ‘Okay. Okay. Guys, who saw the staff?’

The boy with thick red glasses adjusted them nervously. ‘I saw,’ he said, eyeing Aster as though he half expected to be bit.

‘Where did it go, Monty?’ Jaime asked, excitement in his trembling fingers. Monty pointed, off to the side near a car - towards a circle of sand, swirling menacingly, on guard. Aster could see a flash of wood through it, and groaned. ‘Okay, ye lot stay here,’ he said, changing the plan in his head and leaping down to the pavement. ‘I’m going after it. I’ll bring half of it back, go for the other half. Can only carry so much right now, ye know.’

‘Are you gonna be okay?’ another boy asked, orange hat bright even in the dim light, and looking afraid.

‘I’m small right now,’ Aster said, huffing a bit, ‘but I’m not  _ helpless.  _ Neither are ye. Ye’re never helpless.’

The boy nodded, the others joining him, and Aster twitched his ears. ‘Stay safe, and stay away from the sand.’

‘Okay,’ the tall, gangly girl said, and picked up Sophie, who was frowning more, now. ‘Come on, guys, stay near the sleigh!’

Aster turned, eyed the staff, and rolled his shoulders. Small, but not helpless, and maybe not small for long. ‘Let’s even the field, yeah?’ he murmured to himself, and began to run.

‘Whoa! Look at him go!’ he heard from behind him, but he was focussed on his speed, on leaping past sand that curled after him now - and wasn’t that interesting, Aster thought, the way that it had ignored him when he’d been with the tots but tried to snare him now. Very, very interesting.

He skidded under one crashing sweep of sand and leapt up, pushing off it, leaping now from snap and curl to crack and twist, faster than they could twine around his little body. Being small had its perks, for true, he thought as he dove and tumbled past another reaching tendril and came, at last, to the two halves of the staff.

He snapped one end up in his teeth, the only way to hold anything left to him, and turned with his unwieldy mouthful, only to freeze. The nightmare sand had risen up, high as the stars to Aster now, and began to crest down.

‘Bunny! No!’

Jack spun over, spiralling, arms outstretched and flight wild, and Aster could see he was too far away. What a ridiculous way to die, Aster thought, almost annoyed by it. The first to go, and not even in his own shape, no less -

‘Bunny!’

Aster snapped around, horrified - Jaime had  _ followed _ him, suns and stars, and was reaching out too -

Only, Jaime was nearer, and the sand struck his outstretched hand first.

Aster skittered backwards in shock as golden light overwhelmed his eyes, brighter than any light had the right to be in all this, and stared as the nightmare sand - only seconds before twisting and writhing - burst up into vibrant gold light.

‘Sandy?’ Aster sputtered out as the sand wound itself into little saucers of light and big-headed little figures, dancing around Jaime, who watched with wide eyes.

‘Bunny!’ Jack said, scooping him up. ‘What were you thinking, oh my god -’

‘That I’d grab yer staff,’ Aster said back, heart thumping crazily. ‘Did ye see -’

‘Yeah,’ Jack said, looking away from him at last and over to Jaime, who was staring at his hands. ‘What the hell?’

‘I think that’s why it’s avoiding them,’ Aster said, urgent. ‘I -’ There was a dizzy wave that flooded him. ‘I -’

‘Bunny?’ Jaime said, scrambling over, the golden sand following.

‘Jaime,’ Bunny gasped out, ‘go - get the others - ye can change  _ everything  _ -’

Pitch had noticed the light, and turned from his battle with North and Tooth, stunned.

‘Go, Jaime, go!’ Jack urged, and Jaime was off like a shot, the golden sand following him, the black sand edging away from the light. Aster didn’t sit and gape, though, wriggling free from Jack’s hold and falling towards the ground. ‘Wait, Bunny -’

Aster closed his eyes, reached inside himself, and  _ twisted. _

It was his own feet that hit the ground, his own paws and height and  _ shape,  _ by the seven stellar winds, and that was such a relief that he began to laugh, even as the black sand swirled back around and focussed on them.

‘Lo,’ he said cheerfully to the sand, and threw his boomerang straight through it, scattering it into nothing.

‘Bunny?’ Jack said from behind him, sounding a bit thunderstruck. Aster turned, ears first, and made a sweeping gesture at the car.

‘The belief’s coming back,’ he said simply. ‘Get yer staff, Frostbite, we’ve got a job to do.’

Jack nodded, blue eyes glittering in the dreamsand’s light, and Aster grinned, the fierceness in him only rivalled by the affection.

‘What are you doing?!’ he heard Pitch snap, sounding furious. ‘Do your  _ job,  _ you wretched wasteland dust!’

Aster turned back, and could see Jaime had safely reached the other tots, their eyes so full of hope and wonder and happiness that it almost glowed from their skin, their own lights. The Lights.

‘Got it,’ Jack said, and Aster looked back. Jack put the two pieces of his staff together and blew on the join; blue light flared up and sealed the crack.

The wind picked up suddenly, just strong enough to make Aster stumble, cold but not unpleasantly so. Jack breathed a sigh of relief, and when he looked up, his eyes were  _ glowing,  _ the same brightly intense blue as his magic. Aster swallowed; Jack had always been strong, from the first. Now, though, he looked like he could take on Pitch alone and  _ win. _

‘Do you think Sandy could…’ Jack asked, stepping up beside Aster, swinging his staff in a lazy arc.

‘Reckon there’s a chance,’ Aster nodded. ‘Ye get the tots, they’re our best ticket now. I’ll get the others.’ Jack took to the air, and Aster, unable to help himself, added, ‘Stay safe.’

Jack blinked, but the smile he gave was glowing, in a different way from his eyes. ‘You got it, Cottontail,’ he said, and took off for the tinlids. Aster turned to Pitch himself, who had taken to smashing at Nick and Tooth with the broadside of a wicked looking scythe, and palmed his boomerangs. The yetis and the anklebiters could handle the sand, as far as he was concerned.

‘Oi!’ he called, and Pitch looked over on reflex. ‘This is for me googs, ye mongrel!’

He threw, and Pitch ducked under it; Aster had expected that, and thrown the other half a second later, right in the direction Pitch ducked. It slammed into his stomach with a satisfying thump, and Nick whooped as he took another swing with his sword that Pitch only just avoided.

‘Looks like my fairies are doing their work!’ Tooth said with chiming merry laughter, scoring a good long line across Pitch’s shoulder.

Aster grunted in answer, catching his boomerangs as they returned and lining up another throw.

Before he could, there was a shout of delight from behind him - Jack’s voice, joined by the voices of children, and a tendril of golden sand snaked past Aster like lightning, blazing along the ground and winding around Pitch’s ankle.

‘What?!’ Pitch shouted, but it was all he had time for - the sand jerked him up and around, whipping high into the air and dangling.

Aster slumped in relief before turning. Only one reason for that. ‘Sandy,’ he called, trying to keep his voice calm as his eyes sought out his old friend. ‘Took yer sweet time, ye troppo ratbag!’

Sandy (short, round, endlessly patient and endlessly kind Sandy) waved to him, and signed an oval, hollowed out - but with the addition of a single, perfectly round dot.

_ Hello, _ it said in Pookan characters, just as he’d said goodbye, and Aster had to swallow back the tightness in his throat.

Sandy turned, created a bowler’s hat, and doffed it to the clapping and cheering children. ‘Show pony,’ Aster huffed fondly. Jack had floated over, eyes in the air, firmly on Pitch, and he started when Aster gave him a friendly shove. ‘Ye, too,’ Aster said.

‘I didn’t even get to do anything cool this time,’ Jack said, sounding put out about it.

Aster stared. ‘...are ye serious?’ he said after a moment.

‘I wanted to at least give him a good thump,’ Jack said, and looked over. His eyes were twinkling.

‘Ye saved us all, Frostbite,’ Aster said, then turned and looked at the children. ‘Ye and yer believers. Don’t reckon ye could have done anything much  _ cooler _ than that.’

Jack, who’d clearly intended it as a joke, coloured. It was a lovely look on him, Aster thought, even if Jack ducked his head and mumbled about - oh, no.

‘No, don’t ye dare,’ Aster said, reaching out and hooking an arm around Jack’s shoulders, pulling him in for a rough, one-armed hug that he hoped wouldn’t give him away too badly. Not yet. ‘None of this was yer fault. Ye and I are going to have a long talk about when it’s the good oil to run off, mind ye,’ Aster said, feeling Jack wince and hugging him tighter. ‘But it’s not yer fault.’ He looked up at Pitch, who was wriggling desperately to get free. ‘Reckon we ought to deal with whose fault it  _ is _ now, though.’

‘Yeah,’ Jack said, sounding dazed, and Aster let him go. He stayed pressed against Aster’s side for a moment, though, unmoving, before floating away.

Sandy was looking at him thoughtfully when Aster looked over, but Aster didn’t waste time worrying. That would be for later. ‘If ye’ll do the honours, Sandy,’ he said, mostly because he knew it played right into Sandy’s overdramatic, pudgy fingers, and he was inclined to indulge a friend who’d just risen from the dead.

Sandy, predictable as ever (in this, at least), lit up and nodded. He raised his hand, paused as if thinking it over, then nodded once more and whipped it down.

The thin strand connecting him and Pitch swung up and wide before slamming Pitch head first into the ground.

‘Oh, man,’ one of the kids said, staring from underneath his thick, wiry natural hair. ‘That looked like it hurt.’

‘Hopefully,’ said the tall, gangly girl said, huffing.

‘Bunny!’ Sophie cried, wriggling free at last from the girl’s grip. ‘Hop, hop, hop!’

Aster crouched down and she ran to him, little legs pumping, before tripping into his arms. ‘Told ye I’d be back, anklebiter,’ he said softly.

Sophie just nestled closer, tiny fingers in his fur, and he smiled.

For a second, Aster let himself relax. Tooth darted over to Sandy and picked him stright up, whirling through the air with him in her relief; Nick looked deeply amused, and clapped Sandy hard on the shoulder as he passed, and came to stand beside Aster and Jack.

‘Is this what it feels like?’ Jack asked, and Aster looked over. ‘Like - light, in my chest? Is that what being a Guardian feels like?’

Aster and Nick traded looks.

‘Guardians have - centre,’ Nick said, placing his hand on Jack’s shoulder gently. Jack flinched a little at the contact, but didn’t immediately begin trying to backpedal. ‘Each of us, we are different. Sandy guards dreams, for dreams are his centre - dreams of future, dreams of impossible things. I guard wonder - always have I sought discoveries! Exploring, seeing new things! Is very exciting!’ Nick chuckled.

‘I have me hope,’ Aster chimed in, picking Sophie up. ‘I can feel it in me chest, too - lights. Every light on the planet, mate. Tooth, she guards -’

‘Memories,’ Jack finished, and Aster blinked. ‘Yeah, found that out the hard way.’ He shuffled. ‘So - what’s mine?’

‘Reckon that’s something ye’ll have to find out on yer own,’ Aster said, shrugging. ‘We all did.’

Jack nodded, looked at the children, who celebrated with the golden sand. Jaime talked animatedly to Phil, who looked a bit surprised but very pleased at the attention. Sandy had given Pitch a faceful of his dust, and now the Nightmare King dozed, dreaming (apparently) of butterflies. ‘And him?’ Jack said, looking at the slumbering shadow of a man. ‘What do we do with him?’

‘We’re going to lock him away,’ Aster said, firm about it. ‘Got an idea, if ye lot are willing to listen, but reckon we ought to get the tinlids back to bed before their oldies burn down the town.’

‘Excellent idea,’ Nick said, then called louder, ‘Alright, everyone into sleigh!’

The kids began to clamber in, but Jaime hung back. Jack leapt into the air and landed neatly beside him, in a crouch; Aster walked over. Sophie had dozed off in his arms, and so he took great care not to jostle her.

‘But will I ever see you again?’ Jaime said, looking at Jack with big brown eyes and the strongest case of hero worship Aster had seen in years.

‘Course you will!’ Jack laughed. ‘You’re my first believer, right? Can’t forget you. I’ll be back with the snows come winter time, promise. Matter of fact... ‘ Jack said, and leaned back with a mock thoughtful expression. ‘Bet you I can wrangle one more snow day. What do you say to that?’

Jaime’s eyes lit up. ‘You could? Oh, man, you’re the coolest!’

‘Snow day!’ cheered the heavier girl, who looked like she could probably throw a wicked snowball. Aster liked them all, and resolved to leave an absolutely ridiculous number of googs here come next Easter.

‘Snow day it is!’ Jack said, laughing. ‘But you gotta get home before your parents find you missing, okay?’

‘Deal!’ Jaime said, and scrambled into the sleigh.

The reindeer came slinking back, looking ashamed of themselves, and the yeti hooked them back up to the sleigh, scolding them in Yentish. Another snowglobe opened a portal to the Workshop, where they began to march through, Pitch held securely between two of the burliest of them; he’d be out until Sandy said he wasn’t. Phil handed Jaime a piece of paper before he went through, which was tucked safely into a pocket. Aster had no idea what that was about, but reckoned it wasn’t his bizzo.

One by one, they dropped off the kids, and as they went a gentle but thick snow began to fall, Jack’s eyes glinting blue whenever the lights from the streetlamps caught them.

Sophie, Aster tucked in himself, though she rolled off onto the floor a second later.  _ Some tots, _ Aster shrugged, and put a blanket over her.

Jack was putting Jaime into bed, inexpertly but determined, and Aster popped into the room. They were the last two to be put to bed, and the sky was beginning to lighten, even through the thick cloud cover Jack had created.

Jaime was asleep in his bed, and Jack had tucked a stuffed rabbit in with him. Now, Jack was standing and watching him, a fragile look on his face that Aster hoped was a good thing.

‘How ye going?’ Aster asked softly, and Jack tilted his head over.

‘I’m okay, he replied, just as quiet. ‘I’ll be better when Pitch is gone for good, though.’

Aster sighed, and wished anyone else could have given Jack this news. ‘We can’t do that, Frostbite.’

Jack looked over fully. ‘What?’

‘He’s tied to the belief, same as we are, and he has his role to fill,’ Aster sighed. ‘Best we can do is knock him out, keep him sleeping. Keeps him out of trouble. So far as we can tell, Tsar Lunar has hopes that he can be saved, and -’ Aster shrugged helplessly. ‘Can’t exactly tell the bloke not to hope, can I?’

‘Can he? Be saved, I mean.’

‘I dunno,’ Aster answered, blunt. ‘Reckon anything’s possible, if ye believe hard enough.’

Jack nodded, though it was reluctant.

‘Won’t happen today, at any rate,’ Aster sighed. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

He opened a tunnel with two taps, and they descended - the snow was too thick, now, to want to open the window and exit that way. When they were in the tunnels, though, Aster paused.

‘Frostbite?’

‘Shoot, Bun-bun,’ Jack said, and smiled.

Aster rolled his eyes, but swallowed nervously.

It was too soon. Jack was - Jack was just getting used to the idea of people  _ liking _ him, wanting him around. Aster couldn’t, and more importantly,  _ wouldn’t,  _ force his feelings on him. Jack deserved time, to grow used to this new life he was entering, to a world that could say the name ‘Jack Frost’ with joy, and not with irritation at best, loathing at worst. Aster could give him that. Aster  _ wanted _ to give him that. ‘Sides, they were spirits. They had time.

Still. ‘I want to be very clear with ye,’ Aster said. Jack looked over, eyes wide, nerves evident in every movement of his body. ‘One. Ye can call on me whenever ye need me - the three knocks were never intended as a one-off, mate. I will always come for ye.’

Jack nodded, eyes gone even wider, somehow.

‘Two,’ and as he spoke, Aster reached out with his magic, changing the way the Warren’s wards worked, ‘Ye are always,  _ always _ welcome in the Warren. Whether I’m there or no, no matter the time, even on ruddy Easter. Ye are  _ always welcome.’ _

Jack must have felt the changed magic, the way his own was suddenly at home here, because he whipped his head around, staring at the walls.

‘And last,’ Aster said, taking a deep breath, ‘ye can call me what ye want, but if I have a choice in the matter, reckon I’d prefer ye call me by me true name. Aster, if ye don’t mind.’

Jack’s gaze travelled back to Aster, and his heart in his throat, Aster waited.

  
  


Jack bit the inside of his cheek, because if he didn’t, he might cry. He did  _ not _ want to cry in front of Bunny - Aster - over something dumb like being told he was  _ wanted. _

‘I - uh - Okay. Yeah.’

Bunny’s  -  _ Aster’s,  _ Jack reminded himself firmly, this seemed like kind of a big deal to him so Jack was going to do his best to remember - ears twitched, but his mouth grinned, so Jack figured it was alright.

‘Good. Glad we got that sorted.’

Then Aster was hugging him again, full armed, and Jack felt so full of light he could only cling on and hope it never ended.

Things weren’t done yet. Pitch would have to be locked up, whatever that meant, and he had his memories to work through, and that was without working through the past three days (had it really only been three?)

For the first time in a long time, though, since before he’d gone under the ice and come back up, he wasn’t alone. And that, Jack thought as he buried his face in Aster’s fur and held on, would make all the difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up, Habit - but give me about two weeks, I gotta cool down from the hell that Compulsion became -fans self-


	6. Habit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I'm back. Here, have this pleasant and sweet thing. Also, Bunnymund, stop being vastly smarter than I am, it makes you wayyyy harder to write for, you great big butt

Aster looked over the arrayed paint bottles with a discerning eye, judging colour contrasts and light reflections, before deciding that this was the best he could possibly do. He’d worked hard on this, for longer than he’d thought he would have to, but he’d succeeded.

He grinned to himself. ‘Perfect,’ he declared aloud, just as the sweet chime of his newest ward rang in his ear, and his heart began to beat just that tiniest bit faster.

It was still a trick, even a year later, to get Jack to come to his Warren; Aster hadn’t really expected any different. Jack had spent two hundred some years completely alone, and after ‘68 a lot of the indifference had morphed to outright hostility (not that Aster, dense tosser that he was, had even known). Jack wouldn’t be comfortable in most any place for a long time.

The idea of it still made Aster’s teeth clench, and likely would for the rest of his life.

Still. He’d had much more success in drawing Jack in than any of the other Guardians, likely due to their interactions from before the Pitch blue. North had made some tentative progress, and Tooth had given Jack his memory box as a silent apology for having been taken in like everyone else. Aster tried not to think too much about that part; that Jack hadn’t even had his  _ memories,  _ hadn’t even known  _ who he was - _

Aster pitched that thought back in the direction it had come. It was precisely as effective a tactic as his ‘not thinking about it’ pile, which tended to spill over at inopportune times, but if he thought too much about how Jack had suffered an ugly anger awoke in him. It was vast and hulking, misshapen and pulsing; Jack didn’t need Aster’s anger, directionless as it had to be with its subject imprisoned and inactive. He needed… well, Aster wasn’t sure what he needed.

Regardless, Jack had the memories back, even if he hadn’t told anyone about them yet, and that was his right, Aster figured. He was curious - of course he was, suns and stars, he was  _ alive _ \- but he kept the curiosity as tightly caged as the anger. Maybe someday, he’d have the right to express either of them in more than his private thoughts, but that time wasn’t now. Even so, Aster found himself directing more glares in the direction of the Moon than he had in centuries; it was the only concession he felt comfortable making to his own conflicted feelings.

Sandy was Jack’s second favourite amongst them (the fact that Jack had referred to Aster as his favourite, according to North, still made Aster want to smile. He was well aware he was as obvious as a shag on a rock, but so long as his friends held their tongues, which they had, he didn’t much care.) Jack had taken to Sandy’s shorthand with a quickness that was surprising, and sometimes they talked back and forth in it, frost patterns and snowy shapes matching sand-gold swirls. Aster thought that was wonderful. Sandy had never had that, not in Aster’s memory of their time as Guardians.

Sometimes, Sandy would sign in the curves and hollow shapes of Pookan, which Jack seemed to take as another permutation of the shorthand he was being taught. Aster pretended it didn’t make him stop dead every time he saw it, and if either of them noticed, they did him the great service of pretending they didn’t.

Not that Jack would know the significance, mind. Aster still didn’t know how to breach the distance, how to talk about the many things Jack should know, that Aster wanted him to know. How to ask about the things  _ he _ wanted to know. He knew he had time, but there was some impatience in him, as well, selfish and small. Hadn’t he waited eons? Couldn’t he just -

But no. He had waited, yes. Another century or two, time enough for Jack to become comfortable, to build himself a life in the world that wasn’t full of pain and distance; it wasn’t so much a wait as a held breath in the vast count of Aster’s years. He could wait longer.

Besides, the discussion of what Aster was - an alien on this planet, who had shaped it and cared for it, who came from a species that only loved once in their incredibly long lives, who loved  _ Jack  _ \- impatience and longing aside, Aster knew that was a lot to drop on anyone. Much less all at once, which was why he wouldn’t. Pieces, slow and steady, the way he ought, but not yet.

That said, there was something he could do  _ now.  _ Or, at least something he could start.

Aster smiled at the paints, carefully arrayed in their little bottles, awaiting the hand that would take them up. Sometimes, it was best to try speaking in a language someone understood.

Aster stood, and went to meet Jack.

  
  


Jack entered the tunnel nearest his lake, humming under his breath and a giddy feeling in his chest that was probably only half the way the Wind was bouncing him around.

Life was pretty good, he reflected, floating down the tunnel he’d entered towards the main hub of the Warren, spinning his staff lazily in his hand. The tunnel was wide around him, safe and inviting with soft sunlight and softer moss, grass carpeting the floor and flowers bobbing their heads, and he grinned around at it. It looked as happy as he felt.

After all, he had friends now - Sandy, with his golden speaking and awesome stories, North and all the yetis (even if he couldn’t take the noise of the Workshop for very long), Tooth and Baby Tooth, all of the fairies. The kids in Burgess, who believed in him and had played all winter long, the best winter he’d ever had. Aster, and his living,  _ wonderful  _ Warren.

Jack sighed aloud, the happy sound absorbed by the plants and the walls. Sure, it was - a little much, sometimes. But even then, Jack figured  _ too much _ was way better than  _ nothing at all,  _ the way it had been for so long. North and Tooth, for sure, erred too often on the side of apology, like he hadn’t forgiven them ten times over. They’d never been among the number of people who had said cruel things to him, or attacked him; Jack knew very well how Pitch could creep inside someone’s head, now.

For a moment, his mood dropped, remembering Pitch, but it didn’t last long; his happiness took a lot to sink, these days.

They’d taken Pitch down into his own lair, and there, they’d locked him up. It was an amazing thing, the way they had, and in a weird way, Jack was sad more people would never see it - not because he thought people should gawk at a guy who was locked up. He was a bad guy, not a zoo animal. But the prison itself - it was  _ beautiful,  _ in a way Jack hadn’t realised something like that could be.

Aster and Sandy had to be the main forces behind it, from the way it was explained to Jack. He had a long way to go before he was anything like a magic theorist, for sure, but he understood the basics of what they’d done. All of the things they guarded - the Wonder and Memories, the Dreams and Hope, the still unnamed light that lived perpetually in Jack’s chest now - were opposed to Fear in some way. But there was some kind of history between Sandy, Aster, and Pitch (glossed over in the explanation, which Jack burned with curiosity over but didn’t ask after) that made good dreams and hope a bit stronger against it. And so Aster and Sandy had worked together, weaving a great cage for Pitch, who would lay sleeping inside until Sandy said otherwise.

Golden light and twining branches, flowing sand thick with flowers and berries and thorns alike, now grew underground. It glowed and lit up the space, leaving almost no shadows, and Jack imagined that even if Pitch managed to wake up, he wouldn’t get far.

Jack wouldn’t admit it  _ (he’s a Guardian, now, Guardians aren’t supposed to be scared),  _ but the thought that Pitch was imprisoned, kept away from the world, made him feel better. No more whispering in people’s ears. No one trying to kill Jack’s friends, so recently won and so tenuous. They were safe, even if just for a little while, and it meant Jack could relax. Not much, but a little.

Still, there was a lot of work to be done. A lot of the animosity towards Christmas had to be repaired, the teeth collected, good dreams delivered, and now the eggs painted and hidden, a whole year later.

Jack helped as much as he could - everywhere that could feasibly have a white Christmas that year had one (global warming be damned). Jack had sent snowdays after Sandy’s sand, so kids could sleep in and enjoy their dreams. Even Tooth had gotten frost on the windows, little drawings done by tiny fairy fingers, teeth and coins and even self portraits of the fairies left behind as little hellos to the children inside.

Even so, Jack knew that the winter would run pretty firmly into Easter territory; he’d pulled back on most of the storms as March had started, but most of North America, Europe, and Northern Asia was still thick with white. Jack was trying to gentle it as they moved towards spring, but the season always did have thoughts of its own, and he’d encouraged it a bit too much early on. It was his own fault, and it had been hard not to sink into the tar-thick guilt when he’d realised.

So when Aster had begun talking about how he’d increased production on his eggs, and could probably use a second set of hands with all the extra ‘googs’ running around, Jack had been all too eager to accept the second Aster asked him if he’d want to lend his time. It had been a sort of quiet question, the faint edge of nerves in Aster’s voice, and Jack wouldn’t have said no even if he’d had other places to be.

It was just - Aster had told him he was always welcome in the Warren, and Jack knew it, he  _ did,  _ he just wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do once he was  _ there.  _ So far, he’d only come when asked, which he knew was a small miracle in and of itself, and not on his part. Jack had been completely unaware that Aster didn’t let  _ anyone  _ in until last year, during the absolute wreck that Jack had made of Easter. It was kind of a petty thing, but it made Jack feel - special. Aster had liked him that much, had trusted him that much, all the way back in 1970.

Jack couldn’t say that, really, since he knew it sounded kind of weird. Even so, it was knowledge that he kept close in him, right beside the light that was perpetually flickering, as warm as sunlight reflected off ice, in his chest now.

Aster kept asking him to come by, once every few months. There was always something to do when Aster asked - gardening stuff like watering, usually, which was something Jack could do now, no longer prone to freezing everything he touched. Jack was just happy to be useful, even if Aster spent the entire time telling him he didn’t  _ have _ to help. Which was weird, to Jack - what else was he supposed to do there, especially if there were things that needed doing? It wasn’t like Jack was a workaholic, not the way Tooth seemed to be, or any of the others, always focussed on their duties. It was more that when he didn’t have something to do, he got antsy. Plus, if he was helping out, he could linger in the Warren longer, and not feel weird about it.

In a way, he knew he was still waiting for Aster to kick him out, to change his mind. Jack tried his best not to ignore those thoughts, just remind himself that they were wrong. A lot of things had been proven wrong in the past year, including things he’d thought about himself, and the way other people thought about him. Why not these, too? What reason would Aster have to kick him out, since Jack had been on his best behaviour? (No matter how tempting it was sometimes to try a prank, he always refrained. He had a feeling Aster wouldn’t appreciate it.)

He spun around a giant boulder in the path, the Wind bouncing him higher and dropping him almost to the grass before picking him up. She liked the Warren, too, for reasons Jack didn’t really understand. He still wasn’t sure if it was actually underground or not, and hadn’t asked. He hadn’t asked a lot of the questions that sat on his tongue, trying not to be too nosy. But, oh  _ man _ were there a lot of questions! Sometimes he felt like he was going to burst with them, and Sandy could only answer so much through his symbols, which Jack was still learning. Some things made perfect sense to Jack, little pictures that were clear as daylight: a snowflake meant he was talking about Jack, a tooth and a candy cane for Tooth and North, respectively, a little star for himself and a crescent moon for the Man in the Moon. An egg for Bunny, but sometimes it was a starlike flower, especially if Jack had just said Aster’s name. An aster for Aster.

Sometimes, though, the shapes turned into stuff that looked like - well, Jack didn’t know. He’d never seen them before, other than a hazy memory of Sandy’s last and first words back when they were fighting Pitch, and even then they didn’t seem to make sense. It had a bunch of curves and dots and lines and circles, arrayed in shapes, and Jack was picking it apart bit by bit but it was slow going with only a little bit of help from Sandy.

He seemed to be saying more when he used that stuff, though, so Jack was persevering. He didn’t know if it was Sandy’s language or what, but at least it was interesting.

_ Really _ didn’t help with the questions, though, and Jack was pretty sure he could ask North or Tooth or Aster some of them, but… well, North was still too boisterous and loud for Jack sometimes. Much less the one time Jack had asked a harmless question and ended up two hours later fleeing through a window to escape what sounded like a freaking  _ sermon,  _ or some kind of lecture. He’d long ago lost the thread of what was going on.

Tooth was fun, in a rapid-fire kind of way, Baby Tooth giggling in his ear, and way smarter than her giggly exterior would tell you; but she was always half-focussed, perpetually busy with collecting the teeth, and she wasn’t always the best of keeping track of what question she was supposed to be answering.

And Aster… Jack had a feeling Aster could answer just about any question Jack threw at him, and even make it make sense (once Jack was done parsing the slang that Aster seemed to have his entire vocabulary drenched in). But Jack already had spent more time with him than almost all of the other Guardians combined, hours and hours, days of cumulative time spent in the Warren watering and talking about nothing, quietly enjoying his company, and he didn’t want to ask all of his questions and take up even more of his time.

Jack wasn’t sure how to talk about a lot of things, with Aster - it felt like they’d somehow ended up frozen at the small-talk stage, and couldn’t figure out how to get past that. Jack knew more about plants now than he ever had, the ways the eggplants grew and how Aster cared for them; Jack had probably rambled on enough about weather patterns to bore Aster to tears. It was like every time he thought of a question that went deeper than that, his voice froze up and they dropped off into silence.

Around another curve, and Jack knew they were nearing the Warren itself - there was a scent to it, heavy water and thick dirt, green things like grass and trees, flower scents that Jack was beginning to know by rote (lilac and myrtle, acacia and crab apple - Aster liked flowering trees, apparently, and Jack liked the branches seemingly shaped for sitting, though he did his best to curb the impulse). Jack’s face broke into a wider grin. Speaking of apple…

He entered the Warren at last amidst the fall of a white magnolia tree. The sunlight was in thick bands, as ever, and Jack tilted his head back, squinting up.It was green, green, green as far as he could see, broken by spots of sunlight and sky blue - so underground, Jack decided at last, but only technically. Open to the sky. Jack wondered what it looked like from above.

‘Oi, Frostbite!’

Jack’s grin grew still more. He knew Aster had meant it as a rebuttal to every ‘rabbit’ joke Jack had made, but it was a  _ nickname,  _ for  _ Jack.  _ There was no way Jack wouldn’t like it.

‘Hi, Cottontail!’ Jack called, twisting in the Wind’s grip to glance down; Aster waited below, paw shading his eyes as he squinted up into the sunlight Jack was in. ‘I’m not late, am I?’

‘Can’t be late if I didn’t give ye a time,’ Aster pointed out, and Jack descended, unable to keep his grin off his face. ‘So? Come on, I’m waiting.’

Jack thought back on the last chocolate Aster had given him, thick milk chocolate and so sweet it could have been too much, if not for the tart apple caramel in the middle, breaking through the cream and delightfully chewy. Still… ‘Nope, not my favourite,’ Jack said, leaning back in the air, crossing his arms behind his head and resting his neck against the wood of his staff. ‘Still really good, though. Apple caramel, that was a new one for me. I’m used to hearing ‘caramel apple’.’

Aster groaned, paw dropping to cover his eyes. ‘Ye are the most difficult thing alive,’ he groused, and Jack laughed, delighted with it. He knew Aster didn’t mean it in a bad way. He  _ trusted _ Aster not to mean it in a bad way. ‘Well, now that we’ve got me humiliation out of the way, are ye ready?’

There was a little dip of nervousness in Jack’s stomach, but it didn’t outweigh his happiness. He knew this was different from last time - hand painting was going to be a lot harder than dunking eggs in dye and glittering them up.

‘Hey, no dramas,’ Aster said, interrupting Jack’s thought process, which must have been all over his face, he realised. ‘Don’t tell Nick, but it’s easier than it looks.’

Jack laughed again. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s just you, Bun-bun, but I got it. Mum’s the word,’ he said, and pressed his finger to his lips.

Aster rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. ‘This way, Frostbite, I’ve got a set up for ye so that ye’re not hunting all over me Warren for what ye need,’ he said, sounding cheerful about it. Jack smiled, a bit touched; that was actually really nice of him, he thought as he set down on the grass, the Wind curled around him before dissipating. Not that Jack would mind doing that, but it was nice that Aster had thought ahead.

‘Reckoned ye wouldn’t want to get too fancy,’ Aster was saying, already turning and beginning to lope back the way he’d come, ‘so I gave ye a bunch of colours, instead of giving ye a few and making ye mix new colours as ye think of ‘em. They’re grouped by a couple of different palettes, so ye won’t have to worry about colour matching either. Patterns are good - stripes and dots, swirls, that sort of thing. Simple stuff stands out the best, I’ve found, and there’s nothing wrong with a solid colour goog, in me opinion.’

Jack followed him, trotting to keep up; he didn’t mind. He spent so much of his life in the air, that it was kind of nice to be firmly on the ground for once. ‘That sounds easy, I guess,’ he said, and smiled when Aster glanced back at him. ‘I don’t think I can mess that up too badly.’

‘No, but I don’t reckon ye’d mess it up even if I told ye to do more difficult things,’ Aster said, snorting and looking forward again. ‘Ye pick things up quick, Jack.’

Jack blinked, a little taken aback at the offhand praise; he’d thought he’d be used to it after a year, but it still caught him by surprise every time. Aster did that a lot, thoughtlessly saying nice things that he didn’t seem to think much of. Wait, not that he didn’t think much of them - it was more like, he thought they were obvious. That Jack was good at things. It was strange to hear, but Jack didn’t know how to say so without sounding like he was fishing for compliments or something, so he tended to pretend he hadn’t heard them. He remembered each one, though.

‘Ah, through here,’ Aster said, and ducked under the low swoop of a thick dogwood branch. Jack took a second to admire the tree - they got so  _ big _ here in the Warren. Everything did, from the trees to the flowers to the tall rippling grass - before following, sliding his hand along the bark. Like whenever he touched a tree, there was a little jump in his fingers, wanting to spread frost over the blank canvas, but it was almost immediately reined in, long before the magic had a chance to do anything.

Since he’d fought Pitch, since he’d gotten his memories back and repaired his staff, his control was almost automatic. Knowing who he was gave him a focus he’d always known he was lacking, a sense of  _ purpose.  _ He still took a long time to process some stuff - it had taken at least six months before he’d worked through just the events of those crazy three days, and the feelings? Definitely still a work in progress. There was, in fact, some stuff he was trying his best not to get through just yet, because he wasn’t even sure what to call the emotions that roiled when he thought about it, and he wanted to at least have a name for them before he tried to tackle them.

Most of them involved Aster. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, either.

He landed in a wide ceilinged room - the Warren was pretty evenly divided between rooms tunnelled into the earth, Jack had learned over the past while, and rooms like this, constructed more of branch and leaf than anything else. The ground was largely clear of growth, mostly bare dirt, and there were some of the low chairs Aster seemed to favour (probably more comfortable for his legs, Jack thought sensibly), surrounded by tables that matched the height. There was a swarm of eggs, bumping into one another and looking like they were full of energy; they filled a good third of the room, and Jack tried to count them in his head, before giving up. There were a lot.

‘It’s alright, Jack,’ Aster said, and Jack looked over at him to find he was watching, green eyes kind. ‘Looks like a lot, I know, but it goes fast once ye’re in the swing of things.’

Jack took a deep breath. Let it out. Grinned at Aster. ‘Alright,’ he said, and flopped down on one of the little chairs (surprisingly comfortable, he’d found, especially with the way he preferred to crouch on things anyway). ‘How bad can it be?’

  
  


Aster grinned back, and only just managed not to make audible the laughter in his throat. ‘There ye go, Frostbite,’ he said. ‘Now, I’ve got to go get some of the other googs, but I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t let them give ye the run around, yeah?’

Jack nodded up at him, and turned to pick up his brush, and Aster left the tree room before his laughter would betray him.

  
  


Jack was a little nervous about being left alone with the eggs, but he figured painting them couldn’t go too poorly, and so when Aster bounded out of the room, a bit of a pinched look to his gaze, Jack just reached for his brush. He’d look a little pinched, too, if he was relying on someone else to help him with his holiday. If he had one. Maybe if someone tried to help him make a storm? There wasn’t a good analogy here, so he shook the thought away and focussed on the eggs.

Last time he’d been here around them, they’d been spectacularly skittish, and he didn’t want to spend all day chasing them again. So he bent over, laid his hand palm up on the ground, and looked at the herd of eggs, shuffling around now that their - master? who knew - was gone.

‘Hey,’ Jack said softly, and most of them seemed to orient on him. They didn’t have any kind of face  _ (thank god, _ Jack thought when he tried to mentally picture that), but they seemed to be able to understand him. ‘Who wants to go first?’

A pause, and Jack waited patiently - but sooner than he’d thought, one skittered over and took a seat in his palm, docile as you please. ‘Huh,’ Jack said, bewildered, and sat up, carrying the egg as he went. It made no attempts to escape, and like the others had been waiting to be sure it was safe, the herd swarmed over, bumping at Jack’s calves and jostling for position.

‘Hey, hey!’ Jack laughed, delighted. ‘You’ll all get your turn, promise. Let’s just do one at a time, okay?’

Considering the colours Aster had set out (and, wow, did Aster have an eye for colour; Jack liked all of them, greens and yellows and soft pinks, blues and reds so bright Jack had only ever seen their like in sunsets), Jack dipped his brush into a pretty purple bottle and lifted it back out. The colour swirled a bit, excess dripping back into the glass, and he decided he knew this colour - it was like the edge of violets, vibrant and just the tiniest bit blue.

The egg held very still while he applied the paint, frowning as he worked; too thin and it was translucent, but too thick and it looked gloppy. After a few minutes he had it covered to his satisfaction, remembering Aster had said it was okay to have some solid coloured eggs, and set the egg back down on the ground. The other eggs had settled down, seemingly watching, and there was a moment where the violet egg was the centre of attention, being inspected.

Then, making Jack laugh, it leapt into the air and did a happy twirl before skittering off into the crowd, pleased with its new paint. The other eggs began to jostle for attention again, and Jack was just glad he wouldn’t have to chase them this time. He picked up another one, and got to work.

Green stripes on a yellow background, a spotted blue and lavender, red and orange swirls chasing across an unpainted shell; Aster had been right, it did start to go fast. Jack lost count of how many he’d done, focussed on the next egg, trying to see how many he could go through before he repeated one.

He kept humming under his breath, brush moving over the shells in what (he thought with some satisfaction) were becoming practised strokes. The tune in his throat slowly acquired words, until he heard himself murmuring, emerald green on his brush, ‘...King of green - when the leaves all fall, he’s still a-spring…’

That kept happening lately, he thought, setting the green and purple egg aside and letting the next scramble into his hand (the eggs were really well behaved, he noted. Last year must have been some kind of fluke, maybe? Or maybe they just liked him.) He rinsed the brush off and took up some pale sky blue, beginning to swirl it over the shell in loops, and kept humming.

His sister had sang a lot, he remembered. She’d spent most of her childhood - the part Jack had been there for, anyway - very happy. For that matter, so had Jack. Not everything had been roses: sometimes crops didn’t go well, and when he hadn’t been goofing off, he’d been working hard. He’d had to. They’d all had to. Even so, life had been good.

He knew the others wondered. And it wasn’t like he was keeping it secret because it wasn’t good - or even that he didn’t want to tell them. For the first time since the memories had been made, Jack felt like he finally had people who would listen. Tooth definitely would; she had made more than one offer to talk to him about it when he was ready, as a matter of fact. Sandy was the best listener, and not even because of the ‘not vocal’ thing - he always knew when to prompt, when to wait, when to make the right face. And North - well, North was the only other human amongst them, Jack thought, and might understand the best. Tooth was maybe part human? He wasn’t sure about that.

He began to add bright yellow dots in the centre of each loop. It was just that, well. He had someone else he wanted to tell first. And he wasn’t sure ho to talk to Aster about that. About - anything.

He looked up as he set the blue and yellow egg down, wondering if he’d already done horizontal rose stripes on the dark blue, then paused.

He must have done less than he’d thought he had, because the herd didn’t seem to be any smaller. He didn’t think he’d done a lot, really, but he’d thought there would be more of a dent in the number.

More importantly, though - none of the eggs he’d painted were around, save the blue and yellow, who was bumbling into the crowd, pleased with its new colours.

He didn’t think he’d seen any of them leave, but he’d been focussed on painting; he could have missed it. He stood up, careful of the eggs still gathered around his feet, and looked around. Nope, nothing but white shells as far as the eye could see.

‘Hey, did you guys see where the others went?’ Jack asked, crouching down; the eggs seemed to bump into each other bewilderedly. Jack was getting pretty good at figuring out nonverbal things by now, though (Baby Tooth and Sandy helped a lot with that), and so he clarified, ‘You know, the painted ones?’

More confused bumping. One of the eggs tottered forward and bumped purposefully into his knee, and he picked it up.

‘You got an idea?’

The egg swayed back and forth, but when he tried to put it back down, it refused to be shooed from his palm.

Jack sighed; he should have known they wouldn’t behave for him forever. ‘Okay,’ he said, frowning as he stood again and picked up his staff with his free hand. ‘Let’s go find them before they get into trouble, or something.’

The egg bounced a bit in his palm, but Jack rolled his eyes and set the little thing on his shoulder, where his sweatshirt would cup it and keep it safe. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know, I’ll paint you when we get back,’ he said, and whistled a bit under his breath.

The Wind came, lifting him off the ground gently, and the egg began to shake. Jack pulled up his hood, even though it was really too warm to be wearing it down in the Warren, and the egg relaxed.

The Wind blew him free of the dogwood tree, leaving behind the unpainted eggs (he hoped they’d wait for him, or he’d just have to herd them all back together when he found the missing ones) and he paused for a moment, hanging high above the Warren.

It was big; he knew that already. He’d never flown so high here, though, never gotten to see the scope of the landscape. Green rolling hills and cliffs and stones; trees in clusters and standing alone, fields of flowers and fanning leaves of plants he didn’t know the names to yet.

The ‘yet’ sat kind of funnily at the end of that sentence, and Jack examined it for a moment; it felt weirdly inevitable, he decided at last, and he just wasn’t used to inevitability in his life. That was all.

He turned his gaze away from the landscape, and began to look.

Under trees (though not into the rooms they made, since that felt too much like snooping) and over the river of dye, behind the stone egg sentinels (their faces had grown familiar to him as he’d spent time here, and now he even had favourites); he wasn’t sure how far he’d gone, but he wasn’t finding what he was looking for.

He saw painted eggs, for certain - things Aster must have done already, designs already painted on and way more complex than anything Jack had attempted - but none of his own, not even the solid violet one he’d painted first, which should have stuck out like a sore thumb. He wondered where Aster had gotten to, because he didn’t see him, either.

Jack huffed, frustrated, and tried to ignore the tiny bit of panic that had taken up residence in his gut. He hadn’t  _ lost _ them, they’d run off. And Jack was looking. Unless he was supposed to be painting? Was he screwing up Aster’s schedule?

The Wind bounced him a little, jostling him out of the spiralling train of thought. She was right, there was no use to panicking. He’d just have to keep looking.

The egg that had insisted on tagging along was butting insistently into Jack’s ear, and Jack scooped it out of his hood, shaking it back with a bit of relief; it really was quite warm.

‘Look, buddy,’ he said, tucking his staff under his arm and settling into the Wind to float on his back. He set the egg on his chest and watched as it stood up on its little legs, wobbly, before sitting down with a little drop; it had clearly decided that was the safest course of action. ‘I know you want to be painted, but you’ve gotta wait until we find the others who’ve already been painted, okay?’

The egg bounced, but gave no other response. Jack sighed.

‘Okay, back into the hood,’ he said, scooping it up again. ‘We’re going to go find the Easter Bunny.’

The egg went peacefully, but it was Jack’s fingers that were shaking. Only a little, and he didn’t really expect Aster would be mad; to be honest, he wasn’t worried about that. What made his stomach swoop was the idea that Aster would be - disappointed.

Jack had failed him so spectacularly last year, and he’d wanted so badly to make up for it, even just a little - but he couldn’t even paint eggs without messing it up.

He shook the thoughts away, because they weren’t doing any good, and descended down to the ground, palming his staff again.

‘If I was a giant - rabbit - person,’ Jack said, stumbling over the words (Aster wasn’t really a  _ rabbit,  _ was he, he just looked like one), ‘where would I be?’

He thought about it. Aster clearly was painting somewhere -  _ probably got distracted,  _ Jack thought fondly; he’d seen the way Aster could get laser-focussed on something, it was hilarious - but where?

Jack frowned. He’d said he was gathering eggs when he’d left, so probably near the eggplants? Jack knew where the biggest field of them was, at least, so he could start looking there.

He began to walk, and told himself it wasn’t to put off the bad news. He passed flowering fields and flowering trees, colours bright and scent strong. It helped, surprisingly. Or, not surprisingly; Jack loved the Warren. Of course it made him feel better.

As he went, he kept an eye out for the eggs that had gone missing, but though he saw more and more painted eggs, he didn’t see any of his. He picked up one as he passed and squinted at it; huh. That looked like - like the words Sandy had been signing more and more often. Did Aster know that language, then, too?

He knew one of the words in the string of them -  _ flower _ , four curves in a lotus shape and a cluster of four dots at the bottom - but none of the others. Jack set it back down, and it scampered off, beautiful spring-green almost disappearing into the grass. Man, Aster was good at this.

Jack flushed a little. That was kind of a silly thought, of  _ course _ Aster was going to be good at it, but even so it was  _ true;  _ now that he was looking more closely at the eggs he was passing, all of the designs melted into those words, so many he didn’t know, graceful lines and points and dots and circles. It was beautiful.

He looked up, and realised he was nearer to the eggplant field than he’d thought; he could see Aster, seated beside a small herd of eggs himself, intently painting one in a blue so bright Jack could see it from here.

Aster sat on his haunches, long feet flat on the ground and knees curved up like a true rabbit’s legs, and it would have looked strange to someone else, maybe, but not to Jack. That was just how Aster worked, the way he moved; it looked natural on him, even if Jack kind of thought he would be confused by it if he just had someone describing it to him.

The egg in his hood bounced up again, and down into Jack’s waiting hand. ‘Alright, little guy,’ Jack said, taking a deep breath. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

He straightened his spine and marched over, the eggs parting around him curiously.

‘Ah, Frostbite!’ Aster called, catching sight of him; Jack’s stomach did the happy squirming thing it always did when he heard the name. Aster stood, looked around himself, and looked back up as Jack approached. He looked a bit sheepish, and Jack grinned; he’d been right on the nose then. ‘Sorry,’ Aster said when Jack got nearer. ‘They’re impatient blighters. What’ve ye got there?’

Jack breathed in and out, trying to be casual. It was fine. He hadn’t done anything  _ wrong,  _ it had just gotten a bit out of hand and they would fix it. It would be  _ fine. _

Jack’s mouth clearly didn’t get the memo.

‘Okay, so I was painting the eggs, which was fine, you were right, it does go pretty fast once you’re in the swing of things, and the colours were really pretty, so you know, good choices there, but then I looked up and they weren’t there, so I went looking but I didn’t see anything, and I’m pretty sure I’ve been to one end of the Warren and back at this point and they’re all gone and -’

‘Whoa, crikey, hold up,’ Aster said, holding up a paw and looking a bit confused; to be fair, Jack wasn’t sure any of those words were distinguishable from the others or if he’d actually managed to make words at all. For all he knew, he’d opened his mouth and begun to whistle like a tea kettle. It was hard to tell, especially with the way the egg in his hood began to headbutt his ear. ‘What’s all this about?’

‘I lost the eggs!’ Jack burst out, frustrated with his own inability to talk and the headbutting both. ‘And this fucking egg won’t stop freaking out!’

He fished it out of his hood and shoved it at Aster, because if it knocked into his skull one more time he was pitching it into the river.

Aster nearly fumbled the egg, staring at it, then looking back up to Jack. ‘Wait, ye lost -?’

Jack, suddenly wordless, nodded and braced himself - whether for disappointment or something worse, he wasn’t sure.

Then. Oh, god, then everything  _ changed. _

Aster began to laugh, loud and full and from the centre of him, barking laughter like the sound of spring storms shaking trees, and Jack gaped as the light in his chest flared up dazzle-bright.

He knew that laughter, knew the sound and tone and shape of it, even if he’d not heard it out of Aster’s mouth before. That was success, that was the way someone laughed when a great trick had proved fruitful, when a prank had gone right, when a joke was well-told. And the way the light in his chest reacted, the way his heart fluttered, told him three things:

One. He’d been fucking  _ had. _

Two. His light - his centre - was happiness. Laughter, maybe. Joy? Fun? He knew what it was now, he could figure out its name later.

Three. He was  _ (oh, god)  _ in love with Aster.

Jack stared at Aster, and on loop in his head was a single word:  _ fuck. _

  
  


Aster couldn’t help it - the laughter had been waiting all day for this moment, from the second he’d come up with the idea. He couldn’t have kept it in if he tried, he didn’t think.

That is, until he looked away from the goog and saw Jack’s panicked expression.

‘Oh, shite,’ he said, the laughter dying a quick death on his lips. ‘No, ye’re fine - here, look -’

He turned and scrambled for his spare water jar, still unclouded by paint and freezing from the spring he pulled the water from, and turned back to Jack, who was still staring. ‘Look,’ Aster repeated, a bit desperately, and dropped the squirming goog in.

The cold did her work, and the shell went from white to the violet-blue he’d left for Jack in the paint bottles. It was an even coat, from what Aster could see through the distortion of the jar, pretty in the way all things that colour are, and he held the jar out to Jack.

‘...wait,’ Jack said, taking the jar and holding it up, looking at the swimming goog (it was now doing circles through the water, showing off its pretty paint). ‘Invisible paint?’

If Aster blushed like humans did, he was fair certain he’d be the darkest red Jack had ever seen. As it was, his ears were flat to his head, and he could feel his tail twitching. He couldn’t believe he’d been so daft; of  _ course _ Jack would panic. This had to be the least intelligent thing he’d done in centuries.

‘Er, yeah,’ Aster said, heart gone heavy in his chest. ‘Takes five minutes to go invisible, then the colour comes back when it gets cold.’

‘You  _ pranked  _ me?’

Aster opened his mouth to begin apologising, words already on his tongue, but was interrupted.

Jack was laughing, so hard that he actually sat down in the grass, sloshing water from the jar over himself. It sounded relieved, and surprised, and so wonderful that Aster had to physically stop himself from sweeping Jack up and holding tightly, from wrapping himself around him and never letting go.

‘Oh my god!’ Jack was sputtering out, and when he looked up his blue eyes were electric. Aster looked briefly at the egg he’d just been painting; ah, the colour still wasn’t right. There would be a lot of blue eggs this year, he reckoned, as he tried to imitate the brightness before him. His eyes couldn’t be kept from Jack for long, though. ‘You  _ pranked  _ me! How did you even think of that? I can’t - I can’t  _ believe  _ \- I was so  _ worried,  _ and you’re telling me -?’

Aster began to laugh again, too, relief in his own chest. He took a seat beside Jack on the grass, and watched as Jack poured out the goog onto the ground, only to have it scamper up onto his lap, dripping wet.

‘And you!’ Jack said to the goog. ‘You were trying to tell me you were right there all along, weren’t you?’

The goog bounced twice, looking quite pleased with itself, even as it warmed up and began to fade back into white.

‘This the first goog ye painted?’ Aster asked.

‘Yeah,’ Jack said, and frowned at it thoughtfully. After a second, he poked it with a finger, and frost spilled over its shell in neat fern patterns before the violet colour came back. It spun twice (show pony, Aster thought fondly), and bounced again.

‘The first one painted always has the most personality,’ Aster said, holding out a paw. It leapt from Jack’s knee into his palm, and Aster stood. ‘S’why I keep ‘em.’

‘Wait, you keep some?’ Jack asked, scrambling to his feet, too.

‘Have for every year I’ve done this,’ Aster agreed, thinking of the room where they usually spent their time, a couple hundred googs beneath a white willow tree. ‘Ye want to see?’

‘What about the painting, though?’ Jack said, and looked nervous again. ‘I mean, i stopped to go find the eggs, I’m behind now -’

Aster saw exactly where this was going, and cut in. ‘We’ve started a whole day early this year, Frostbite,’ he said, and set a paw on Jack’s shoulder. ‘No dramas, we’re not behind.’

‘Really?’ Jack said, and smiled up at Aster, the nerves bleeding out of him - all but a bit of tension, and though Aster wanted to soothe it, he didn’t know its source. ‘You’ve thought of everything, Cottontail.’ Jack looked down at the goog still in Aster’s other paw, and his smile grew. ‘Cold, huh? So these eggs are for where it’s still going to be snowy, right?’

Aster twitched his ears, pleased despite himself. ‘Got it in one, ye clever thing,’ he said, and Jack laughed. Aster, for one moment, rested in the sublime feeling of having caused that, of having been a source of happiness for Jack. It was the best he had felt in centuries, save for every other time he’d gotten to see Jack smile, or laugh, or even the three times - wonderful, wonderful times - he’d gotten to hold Jack in his arms.

‘Hey, Bun-bun?’

Aster smiled down at Jack. ‘Yeah, Frostbite?’

‘Thanks,’ Jack said after a moment, looking down; there was a hint of a flush along his cheeks. Embarrassment, likely, but it was a lovely sight to see. Then he looked up, and the grin on his mouth fair made Aster’s heart stop. The hope Aster could feel in him did nothing to reduce the sensation. ‘But I’m going to get you back for that.’

Aster couldn’t help the laughter again. ‘That’s what I was counting on,’ he replied, and Jack lit up, eyes and Hope and grin alike. ‘Now, let’s get the little blighter in with the others, yeah? And I think,’ he said, twitching his ears as an idea began to spark in his brain, ‘I might have an idea for the next chocky. It’s going to be yer favourite.’

‘Bet it won’t,’ Jack challenged as they began to walk, eyes blue and grin wild. Aster let his paw remain on Jack’s shoulder as they went, and was content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is going to get him back for this so bad, oh my god


	7. Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to everyone who was hoping for an immediate follow up to Habit, it just wasn’t in the cards. Rest assured, not long after that, Aster spent two weeks accidentally setting off snowball traps in the common areas of the Warren before he found and disarmed them all. He wasn’t sure which he was more impressed by - how many there were (sixty eight, in all), or how cleverly they were hidden.  
> Have a special Monday edition of the Ostara Project (by which I mean sorry for the lateness)

Aster entered the drawing room, ears twitching contentedly, a bit of a spring in his step. Nick chuckled behind him, which Aster was gracious enough to ignore; a visit between friends, he’d been reliably informed, should not be spent scolding one another. Apparently.

Of course, Aster didn’t have any other friends quite like Nicholas St. North.

He took a seat across from Nick’s oversized armchair, and grinned. ‘Now, see,’ he said, gesturing to the room around them, ‘much better with less red. I’ve been trying to tell ye for centuries.’

It was the one room in the Workshop, Aster suspected, that wasn’t done up in some terribly clashing red and green colour scheme; largely green and bronze, with only the occasional red accent, in knick-knacks and wall-hangings.

‘You hush,’ Nick grumbled, taking his own seat. Between them was a table, heavy-laden with the tea and bikkies Nick favoured, and Nick reached over to pour himself a cup. Peppermint, by Aster’s nose, with black tea. ‘Red is perfectly fine colour. Vigorous! Energetic! Gets heart pumping and blood rushing.’

Aster wrinkled his nose. ‘Ye’re not wrong,’ he said, and accepted the cup Nick offered him, ‘but with the green? Ye had to go with the red orange with the green?’

‘I do not know what you are speaking of,’ Nick said airily. Aster rolled his eyes.

‘And ye wonder why Tooth calls ye colourblind,’ he said, blowing on the tea a bit to cool it. Nick was spooning sugar into his with the steady concentration of a man determined to have the perfect cuppa, but Aster tended to forgo it. He preferred to taste the tea itself, not a sweetened version of it. ‘Do ye remember the first paint job ye put up? Reckon it blinded the rest of us.’

Nick winced, and offered up a goodnatured, sheepish grin. ‘I was… enthusiastic.’

Aster arched an eyebrow, and Nick began to chuckle. ‘What?’ Aster asked, when Nick wasn’t immediately forthcoming with what he found so funny.

‘Is nothing,’ Nick said, but the grin had turned concerningly mischievous. Aster had learned long ago to distrust that grin.

‘It’s not nothing, ye hoon,’ Aster said, and took a sip of tea. Ah, it was one of the blends Aster had given him last Chrissy. He recognised the taste. ‘Come on, out with it.’

‘Is nothing,’ Nick insisted, still grinning. ‘Only…’

‘Ugh, whatever it is, ye’re going to drag it out long as possible, aren’t ye,’ Aster said, rolling his eyes and lifting the cup of tea to his mouth.

‘You look very much like Jack sometimes,’ Nick said, and Aster made the mistake of breathing in the tea instead of drinking it.

After a few seconds’ coughing fit, during which Nick laughed merrily and Aster glared his solid best (when he wasn’t trying to reintroduce his lungs to the concept of air), Aster managed to set aside his tea and point at Nick firmly. ‘I knew ye couldn’t let it lie for too long,’ Aster croaked, voice horribly strangled. ‘We are not doing this.’

‘Doing what?’ Nick chuckled, sipping his own tea and reaching for one of the glazed shortbread cookies on the plate. ‘I? Am doing nothing. Merely remarking on resemblance. Learned expressions are so curious, yes?’ His eyes were twinkling. Aster hated when his eyes twinkled like that, it never went well for Aster’s mental wellbeing. ‘Curious how people begin to act similar, when they spend much time together.’

‘North, I will break all of yer wards and let the elves out,’ Aster threatened.

‘No, you will not,’ Nick said peacefully, secure in his knowledge that Aster would not in fact do that. Aster hated that he was right, mostly because the clean up would be a  _ nightmare. _ ‘Besides, what would I tell Jack, he asks why such thing happened?’

‘No, ye stop that,’ Aster said, tossing his paws in the air. ‘Do not start threatening me like he’s me - he’s me  _ keeper, _ or something.’

‘You misunderstand. I would tell him because he would of course come to help,’ Nick said, and honestly, he was lucky Aster liked him, because if anyone else spent so much of their time smugly satisfied with themselves, Aster would job them good. ‘And if he came to help, because he is such kind soul, he would deserve answer as to why assistance was necessary. And so, I, beleaguered and heavy-hearted, would be forced to answer. And answer would be that you, friend of his heart, had done such grievous damage.’

‘Ye know,’ Aster said flatly, ‘when ye get overdramatic like this, ye start to sound like those romance novels ye keep trying to tell me are Sandy’s.’

Nick clasped a hand to his chest, his face a perfect mask of affronted horror. ‘He asks me to keep them!’ he protested, voice loud and brash with the theatrics. ‘Books get sand in them in dream castle! I am kind enough to do my friend favour -’

‘Bulldust,’ Aster snorted, and chanced another sip of tea, swallowing quickly in case Nick tried something else. ‘Ye are the biggest closet romantic I’ve ever seen in me life. Sandy is a close second,’ Aster conceded at Nick’s completely unfeigned outraged look. ‘Very close. Ye still beat him.’

‘You beat us both,’ Nick said with an accusing finger. ‘As you are currently engaged in case of  _ omnia vincit amor  _ -’

‘Ugh, don’t break out the Latin -’

‘Would you prefer -’

‘No, ye stop, right now,’ Aster groaned. ‘Drop it, Nick.’

Nick’s finger didn’t drop. ‘Bunny,’ he said, and Aster knew he wouldn’t get out of this conversation unscathed. ‘It has been three years since we imprisoned Pitch. You have been holding in too long.’

‘What do ye mean?’ Aster said, scowling.

‘You should speak to someone,’ Nick replied sagely, sitting back in his seat and sipping his tea. ‘This is kind of topic, should not be pushed off forever. You  _ must _ speak to someone, else bitterness grows in soul.’

Aster’s ears twitched to either side. ‘Okay, now ye’ve lost me,’ he admitted. ‘Because ye’re making no sense, mind. Not a failing on me part.’

‘Haha,’ Nick said, voice flat but a smile curling at his lips. ‘First, answer me truly. You are in love, yes?’

Aster twitched. ‘Reckon that’s none of yer bizzo,’ he said, knowing he’d already lost. He’d probably lost three years ago, before even he’d figured it out; Nick always had known more about Aster than their short friendship (only five centuries? Something like that) should have allowed him.

‘Bunny, what was unclear about  _ truly?’  _ Nick said, sounding irritated. Good. The last thing Aster wanted to do right now was talk about this, and this was the second-to-last person he wanted to talk to about it. ‘Please, old friend.’

Aster rolled his eyes, and with a twinge of discomfort gave in. ‘Yes, alright? Yes.’

Nick nodded, looking pleased once more. ‘Is as I suspected,’ he said, and reached for another biscuit.

‘Eat enough of those and ye’ll be as large as the humans say ye are,’ Aster muttered.

‘Perhaps,’ Nick replied, looking utterly unperturbed by the thought. ‘Will be all muscle, though.’

Aster snorted; if Nick was all muscle, then Aster was an overgrown rabbit.

‘Second,’ Nick added, and Aster groaned again. ‘You love once, yes?’

Aster sucked in a breath; aha. This was the point Nick was aiming at, then. Likely, anyway. Aster might get out of this less battered than he’d thought he would. ‘Aye,’ Aster agreed. ‘S’how it’s always been, for all Pooka, all the way back since the stars kindled and the galaxies took their first breaths. For each of us, one world; for each of us, one love.’

The old words sounded strange in English, and Aster wished faintly that he hadn’t been such a jealous keeper of his own culture, of the last pieces. Not for the first time in the centuries since he’d become a Guardian, he considered the possibility of teaching the others. None of the secrets, none of the hidden things that were meant for Pookan eyes and no others; but the language had never been secret. Sandy could write it well enough, even if his shapes looked as if they had been nicked directly from Aster’s handwriting. Nick would leap at the chance to know something new (always did, the curious blighter). Tooth, for all that she’d long managed to feign polite indifference,  _ definitely _ would love to add this language to her impressive collection. And Jack…

Well, that was its own separate conflict, internal and as of yet unresolved. Especially as Sandy appeared to be teaching him on his own.

He decided (as he always did) to put the decision off for another half century, as Nick responded.

‘And so, at last, to my third point,’ Nick said. ‘You love Jack.’

Aster’s ears tucked themselves down, despite his best efforts. He’d known this for three years already, he scolded himself, and there was no question of his own emotions, the way air seemed easier to breathe and his steps lighter, the world brighter, when Jack was nearby. It should come as no surprise to hear the words from someone else’s lips.

‘Aye,’ Aster said at last, and was quite unable to meet Nick’s eyes, no matter his reasoning.

Nick chuckled a bit. ‘Do not worry, old friend,’ Nick said kindly, and Aster’s eyes snapped up to him. ‘You have nothing to fear from my opinion.’

A fear that Aster had been absolutely unwilling to acknowledge lifted from his soul. He slumped back in his seat, relief like a song reverberating off his bones, and Nick chuckled.

‘We have known since you did, perhaps sooner,’ Nick said, and Aster shrugged; personal anxieties aside, he’d suspected. No one could feel like he did and manage to hide it completely. ‘Jack, naturally, is oblivious.’

‘Thank the stars for that,’ Aster said fervently, then winced as Nick’s easy-going expression drew down.

‘Why do you say so?’ Nick asked, third biscuit already half-gone. Given that North’s cookies tended to be the size of Aster’s paw, this was somewhat impressive. ‘You do not think he would respond well? You cannot know until you say something.’

Aster rolled his eyes. ‘Nick, trust me,’ he said, reaching for a biscuit himself. ‘I’m not pining hopelessly. I’m just - holding off.’

‘Why?’

‘He needs time, for one,’ Aster said practically. If he talked about it like it was - something not involving him, if he said no names, it almost became easy to speak of. ‘Time to settle in. A lot of changes in the last few years, to give ye the good oil. I’m his friend before anything else, I’m not so selfish as to ruin that.’

Nick frowned. ‘You would not  _ ruin  _ -’

‘No, don’t,’ Aster said, holding up his paw. ‘Ye can’t just pile on stuff like this and hope for the best. Timing, ye great big bag of hot air, is everything.’

‘I am not bag of hot air,’ Nick huffed. ‘I wish for your happiness. Is that so bad?’

‘I want  _ his,’ _ Aster said bluntly.

Nick’s face crinkled up, smile wide, and Aster groaned yet again. ‘No,  _ stop that  _ -’

‘And you call  _ me  _ closet romantic, pah, Sandy could not hold candle to you,’ Nick said, hand on heart again.

‘Rack off,’ Aster said, and gulped down his cooled tea. ‘It’s what’s practical.’

‘Certainly,’ Nick said, still looking amused. ‘But is romantic, nevertheless.’

A few minutes passed, and Aster began to think that, perhaps, he was past the worst of it. Those hopes were dashed when Nick said,

‘You said  _ for one. _ What is for two?’

‘Starlight and darkshine, ye won’t just let it go,’ Aster huffed. ‘Ugh. Fine. For two, there’s a lot for him to deal with.’

‘You have said that,’ Nick pointed out.

‘Not - like that,’ Aster stumbled, then sighed. ‘With  _ me,  _ Nick. There’s a lot.’

Nick’s expression grew confused. ‘I am not following.’

Aster held up his paw, thumb tucked into his palm, and ticked down his first finger. ‘First off, different species,’ he said, and wiggled his two remaining fingers at Nick in emphasis. ‘Not only that, different species from different planet. Alien, though honestly I’m older and I’ve been here longer, which makes all of ye the aliens, but I’ll let that go.’

Nick chuckled, which was what Aster had intended, so that was good.

‘Second off, male,’ and then Aster paused, even as he ticked down the second finger. ‘Well, shifter. The physical stuff is a mite more malleable than yer species, mind. But I’ve been male since I was a kit, and I don’t much intend on changing that, one love or not.’

‘Here, here,’ Nick said, and Aster couldn’t help his smile, fond and wide; it was good to have a friend who supported him, no matter what. Even if he was as annoying and smug as Nicholas St. North.

‘And third off - the whole  _ mating for life _ thing in the first place.’

At this, Nick rolled his eyes, which gave Aster pause. ‘We have heard of concept, great and alien Bunny,’ he said, flat but with no little humour in his twinkling eyes. ‘Marriage is even fairly popular amongst us savages.’

‘No, don’t do that,’ Aster said, shaking his now closed fist at Nick. ‘That’s not how I meant it, and ye know that.’

‘How did you mean it, then?’ Nick challenged, and if it weren’t for the twinkle in his eyes, Aster would have thought him genuinely offended.

‘I mean we have very, very different lifespans,’ Aster explained, twitching his ears in annoyance. ‘My - crikey, I could live as long as the Universe if I don’t cark it. Humans - and human spirits, mind,’ he said, catching precisely what North’s next objection was going to be, ‘do not. When I say  _ mate for life,  _ I do not mean a pawful of centuries and chump change, Nick, ye know I don’t. I’m billions of years old already, and I look no older than when I was first of age. I dunno if I ever will.’

The gravity of what he was saying seemed finally to sink into Nick’s brain, because the good-humour fell away. He took a thoughtful sip of his tea, and then said, ‘Are you sure? I remember, you looked very different, first we met.’

‘Shifter,’ Aster reminded him. ‘Me shape is more malleable than ye’d think.’

‘And now?’

Aster grinned sheepishly; he’d kept this shape for almost four centuries. Well, returned to it. ‘This is me,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I was in a bit of a phase when ye met me. We’ll leave it at that.’

‘Pah, you and your secrets,’ Nick said. His eyes were twinkling again, and he leaned forward. ‘You are wrong on at least one count, old friend.’

Aster blinked. ‘Which one?’

‘Mate for life,’ Nick said, sipping his tea again. ‘Jack is human, yes, and human spirit. But we are already different spirits than most - you know, well as I, that our classification as Guardians is much contested.’

Aster flicked his ear in acknowledgement; that was a debate he hadn’t kept track of, as it had begun shortly after the Guardians had begun to coalesce and was still ongoing so far as he knew. Spirits had no idea how to identify them, where they fit into the power structures and hierarchies that had always existed so long as there had been spirits. If they even  _ were _ spirits, in the same way anyone else was.

‘Not only that, by all accounts - including  _ his own,’ _ Nick said meaningfully, and Aster perked his ears forward, curious, ‘Jack has looked precisely same. No changes, nothing, in three hundred plus years.’

Aster frowned. ‘I don’t remember him saying -’

‘You are not only person he speaks to, for all that he tries very hard to make that reality,’ Nick said, sounding very amused. Aster had no idea what  _ that _ meant, and would have asked, if Nick hadn’t continued: ‘It was to Tooth, if curiosity must be sated. He has not aged. He does not age.’

Aster only nodded, because the implications of that, in all sorts of directions, was enough to make his heart lift and his soul sink, all at once. He’d rather let Jack bring it up to him, in his own time, than try to theorise and muddle through on his own. He’d rather do it with Jack.

Since that was rather the point of all of this, anyway, he decided to let it lie.

‘That is not entirety of your hesitance,’ Nick said gently. Aster groaned again.

‘Ye’re not going to belt up until ye know every scrap, are ye?’ he demanded.

‘Have you ever known me to?’ Nick said, and Aster had to concede the point, however reluctantly. ‘Please, Bunny. Help me to understand why you put off your own happiness.’

‘I’m not,’ Aster protested. ‘Alright, ye want the drum? Here it is. I don’t want him to feel obligated to me, alright?’

Nick sat back in his chair. His surprise was visible, in the widening of his eyes and the setting aside of his teacup. ‘Obligated?’

‘Ye know Jack,’ Aster said, and even the name made his pulse jump, always would,  _ starlight _ he had it bad. ‘Ye know how he is. Kind, kinder than the world should have made him, and caring, and always trying to help - he thinks he has to  _ help,  _ stars help me, just to be welcome with any of us. It’s taken these three years just to convince him to come in and out of the Warren as he pleases -’

Nick blinked, but now that it was coming out, Aster couldn’t stop it.

‘- and that’s me  _ home,  _ that’s where he  _ belongs,  _ even if he’s never me partner, even if that never comes to pass he will always be welcome where I am, and it’s taken me  _ three years  _ for him to drop in as he wants, and -’ Aster sucked in a breath, ran a paw over his face. ‘Which is its own miracle. I’m not so dim as all that, to not recognise it. But back to me point,’ he said, when he saw Nick’s mouth open. ‘Back to me point, Jack is  _ absolutely _ the kind of bloke who would hear ‘oh, me mate can only fall in love once, and he fell in love with me, I should try me best to love him back.’ And that would  _ kill  _ me, Nick, better than if ye finally skinned me for yer giant soup pot.’

Nick studied him, expression grave. ‘I do not think,’ he said after a long moment, ‘that Jack would do that for just anyone. For you? For his best friend, for first one to reach out, to care, in his entire existence? Yes, he would. I can see your concern.’

Aster wrinkled his nose. ‘Great,’ he complained, ‘that’s a whole other angle I hadn’t considered. Thank ye, Nick. Much obliged.’

‘Not as much as you’d think,’ Nick said, eyes twinkling again. Aster rolled his eyes. ‘I still think you should speak to him,’ he added, picking up his tea again.

‘And I will,’ Aster said. Nick almost dropped his cup in surprise. ‘Strewth, Nick, I wasn’t planning on keeping mum forever,’ he said, amused. ‘A while, yes, but not forever. Give him a century or two, time to see this world and what’s in it before I say anything.’

‘A century?!’ Nick sputtered. ‘You have patience of  _ glacier,  _ Bunny!’

‘Something I reckon Jack might appreciate,’ Aster replied, grinning.

Nick began to laugh, began to speak of other things, and mentally, Aster took a deep breath. Released it.

He had Nick on his side, annoying and irritating and smug and self satisfied as he was, and that was no small thing.

Aster thought of the centuries to come, and basked in the light of his own hope, like a winter sun in his chest.

  
  


Summer in the Northern Hemisphere was quickly becoming a favourite time of the year, for Aster. Oh, he was still very partial to spring, make no mistake (it was a part of his core, a physical manifestation of change and hope; no matter what his thoughts, he knew what lay closest to his soul). There was even a certain appreciation of winter in him, though that had been growing, subtle and unchecked, since the dawn of April 14th, 1968. But summer - the Australian winter, though it was alway spring in the Warren - suddenly felt like the kindest part of the year.

After all, the work of spring was past, and winter was largely gentle in the Southern Hemisphere, though there were of course certain places where winter took up residence. Great lines of snow all down the South American mountain ranges, the southern tip all but white; and Antarctica was, as ever, the summer stronghold for many migratory spirits.

Jack, while migratory in nature, was not one of the ones dependent on the cold to survive, and so had much less to do during the Northern summer than he did any other time of year. Now, five years on from Pitch, he spent the majority of that free time in Aster’s Warren.

There was little Aster could think of that would make his chest swell up in pride more. He had made Jack welcome here, had made of his home somewhere Jack wanted to spend time. The Warren, though constructed with his own solitude in mind, had never been truly designed for it. It, like him, was built for a partnership, for more than one in residence, no matter how briefly in the year.

There were stories, things that Aster had long ago dismissed as lost to him with the loss of his species, stories that now reared up and reminded him of who - of  _ what - _ he was. His own magic was responding, weaving around this addition and the change in himself, and certain things were locking into place. The wards, even the ones Aster had built to allow only himself in (rooms where the last artifacts of his civilisation rested in stasis, untouched for millenia), had altered to welcome in Jack, if he should try to enter. Aster was uncertain if that was just a side-effect of how the magic worked, or his own subconscious decision; if he’d thought about it, or if Jack had asked, he would have let him in, he realised. He wanted to share this with him some day, the histories and technologies and philosophies, he wanted to know about Jack’s history and experiences and stories, he wanted -

He  _ wanted,  _ and the Warren changed to suit that, to accommodate two where its builder had given up the thought of anything more than one.

There was a certain amount of chagrin towards himself, that he had assumed so; it wasn’t as if Pooka had only ever partnered with Pooka. Cross-species relationships were commonplace enough that no one had blinked at them, though there was always a tinge of pity, a sense of tragedy, to those; after all, few species lived so long as the Pooka. Someone who fell in love outside of the species was practically doomed to lose them. Aster’s conversation with Nick, two years old by now, still weighed heavily on him; the implications of Jack’s existence, what a spirit even was.

Certainly, there had always been stories and myths and legends, for every species, but prior to this planet Aster had never heard of this sort of creature, this transubstantiation of being to new type of being. That he was considered one of them (he’d checked, the debate was currently favouring ‘spirit’ rather than ‘immortal magic-users’, which had been tipped by the addition of Jack to their ranks) was a bit boggling; he was alive, wasn’t he? He bled and he breathed and time passed, even if not for this body of his.

There was a hope in him, small and wavering, that he only acknowledged peripherally; that for him, just maybe, falling in love out of his species wasn’t the tragedy he’d always heard it would be. That Jack would - that Jack  _ could  _ -

Ah, he’d best not think on it too hard. One way or the other, it was a hope that was too sharp-edged to entertain.

He’d gone back, into his books and his histories, a lot the past few years. He’d had good reason to bless the Pookan sensibility more than once, over the course of his lifetime, and the common practice of keeping a large archive of that sort of thing when they took on a planet was one of the things he thanked most. Yes, the Pooka were finished in the long run - he was well aware of this, being the last. When he carked it, it was done. But the histories, the secrets, the ideas they’d had and the things they’d discovered, they were all preserved, safe, here with him.

A twinge of the old grief, but nothing more. It had been a long time. He was (largely) at peace with it.

Besides, a grief so old and so well-worn couldn’t compete with the newness, the sweet brightness that was his life now. Now, when he spent a full three months of the year in near constant company with the one person he’d never thought he’d -

‘Hey, Aster?’

Aster blinked, took a quick squizz around himself; ah, he’d done it again. It was easy to get lost in his own head when he was gardening. The motions were so dear and familiar, he could do it almost without thinking, now. Strange, though, to do it when Jack was here, pale fingers gentle on leaves and stained with dirt beside him.

Then again, he’d been thinking of Jack in the first place. That would explain it.

‘Frostbite?’ Aster prompted, when Jack was quiet for a long moment.

Jack sat back from the dirt, and Aster looked over at him, concern like a cold tide when he saw the complex expression on his face.

Aster knew he was a long, long time off from even halfway understanding everything about Jack. For all that he carried off the air of a carefree young man, unfettered and free of depths, Aster knew otherwise. Like the strata of cloud formations, there were layers and layers upon  _ layers _ to Jack, paper thin and mile thick by turns, and Aster thought that even if he  _ did _ get to spend the rest of his life learning them, he would never complete the study.

Even so, Aster was learning, and he could spot the most basic of shapes, he was certain. Anxiety was in the tight line of Jack’s jaw, apprehension in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes that only appeared when he was frowning; his blue eyes were shaded, but Aster was unsure whether that was to do with the angle of his head or some other, heavier emotion.

‘Can I - sorry, this is going to sound weird,’ Jack began then stumbled back, having some trouble with what he wanted to say.

Aster flopped his ears in Jack’s direction, withdrawing his paws from the soil and shaking the excess back onto the earth. ‘Maybe,’ Aster said, knowing better than to just deny what Jack thought, ‘but reckon I’ll want to hear it, weird or no.’

Jack sent him a glance, and still, the layers were thick; Aster still gleaned gratitude from them, and felt warm. ‘Okay,’ Jack said. Bit his lip, white teeth like a flash of ice, which Aster ignored with a great aplomb (wasn’t his place to notice that, not yet). Took a deep breath. ‘Can I talk to you about my memory box?’

Aster’s heart stopped.

He knew he was staring at Jack, and that wasn’t good; Jack would read it as a negative, if Aster didn’t pull himself together, but he had all the words of a blank book, at the moment.

Jack just kept looking at him, though, and Aster felt a flare of pride. There were nerves, yes, and anxiety, but Jack was holding on. Determination was a light in his irises and a set to his shoulders, and he was waiting for Aster’s answer.

‘I’d be honoured, if ye want to,’ Aster said at last, knowing it was a bit more raw than he wanted it to sound and incapable of hiding it.

Jack’s smile was small, tentative, but  _ there,  _ and Aster was so in love it made his chest  _ ache. _

‘Thanks,’ Jack said, and sat back fully, folding his legs criss-cross with grace. He was like a birch tree, sharp bone and thin flesh and pale skin, and Aster swallowed back his sigh before it could make so much as the smallest vibration in his throat. ‘I’ve, uh, wanted to talk about it for a while, but I wasn’t sure how to ask.’

‘Just like that, Frostbite,’ Aster assured him, reaching over and allowing himself a comforting pat on Jack’s arm. He sat as well, turning to face Jack more fully, and set his arms on his knees. ‘Anything, ye just ask. Might not have the answer, mind, but I’ll always have the time.’

‘Even at Easter?’ Jack teased, smile growing a little.

Aster chuckled. ‘Maybe a bit less, then, but I’d make the time, anyway,’ he said, certain. ‘Even for a dumb question?’ Jack pressed, still grinning but voice a little more serious.

‘Not sure there are dumb questions,’ Aster shrugged, scratched at one of his ears with a hindpaw self consciously. ‘Other than a question ye already know the answer to, and are only asking to be difficult.’

Jack tilted his head in acknowledgment, but his smile had firmed, his cheeks had gone a little pink. Aster reckoned Jack had no idea what he looked like, the effortless grace and fetching blushes and sunny smiles and twilight eyes. Silver hair that took on the colour of whatever light shone on it. Aster rather thought if he did, he wouldn’t smile at Aster in such a way, like Aster sat in the heart of a sun.

There was still a hope in his chest, one that Aster didn’t dare to either tend or uproot.  _ Time,  _ he chanted in his head.  _ To all things their seasons. _

‘Okay, so,’ Jack said, smile dropping away a little, ‘you know that I… I didn’t remember much, right?’

‘I know ye were missing yer memories,’ Aster replied. ‘I know ye didn’t know who ye were. Still fuzzy on the details of that, but reckon that’s to be expected.’

‘Well, you’re not wrong at all, so there’s that,’ Jack said, looking a little relieved. ‘I just kind of - woke up one, night, right? And the Moon told me my name was Jack Frost, and that was kind of… it.’

Aster had known this, but to have it put so nonchalantly, like it didn’t  _ matter…  _ ‘I’m sorry,’ Aster said, reaching out and patting Jack again. Jack leaned into the contact, eyes falling closed, and though it made Aster’s pulse leap and stutter, he left his paw there, silent support.

‘It’s alright. Well, I mean, I’m still mad about it, and I don’t understand a lot of the reasoning behind it, but I mean. It’s over. That part’s done.’

‘Yer feelings are still there.’

Jack gave Aster another grateful look. ‘Yeah, they are,’ he conceded. ‘But I’m not as mad, anymore, and it’s not as important.’

Aster kept his feelings on that firmly in his own head. His expression clearly changed, because Jack laughed a bit under his breath and reached over with his right hand, opposite the shoulder Aster’s paw rested on. It settled, mist-light and cool, on Aster’s wrist. ‘It’s  _ fine,  _ Cottontail,’ Jack said, voice soft but certain. ‘It sucked. A lot. And I think I’m going to be - not okay with it, for a really long time. If I’m  _ ever  _ okay with it,’ he added, brows ticking down. ‘But right now, I’m fine. And that’s not what I wanted to talk about, anyway.’

‘Alright,’ Aster grumped, mostly because it made Jack laugh and his grip on Aster’s wrist tighten, just a little, as he leaned more of his weight over.

‘So, long story short, I didn’t remember anything. And the memories are still kind of - you know, distant? Three hundred years of not having them will do that, I think. But they’re there, and I remember them, and it’s like - having a piece of my brain back.’

Jack’s gaze had gone distant, dropping to the dirt between them, but he still held on to Aster’s wrist. Aster wanted to take his hand, but refrained; he didn’t want to interrupt.

‘I’ve told Tooth some things,’ Jack continued, his voice gone a little softer, too, like it was coming from farther away. ‘Not - not any of the specific memories, really. She just had some questions about how I worked, which I mostly answered. Like - uh, I don’t age? Which is weird, apparently, since North does, and Tooth apparently does.’

Aster nodded, silent, but Jack didn’t take notice.

‘It’s just really slow, for them. Maybe it’s really,  _ really _ slow for me, too, but I don’t think it’s the same, since -’

Jack swallowed, looked up at Aster, suddenly very present and looking very vulnerable. Aster quashed his urge to tug Jack over into his lap and hold him with extreme prejudice.

‘Okay, this might be the weirdest part? And, I mean, it’s  _ weird,  _ okay, since all of you are apparently - you know, alike. At least, like this.’

‘What do ye mean?’ Aster asked, when Jack was silent a moment. His lips were moving, but no sound came out - like he was mentally rehearsing how he wanted to say it.

‘I’m - I died. I think?’

Aster’s paw tightened, his ears snapped forward; it was like trying to hold a faultline together, but he managed not to drag Jack in and wrap him close, protect him from a danger already long past.

‘Ye died,’ Aster repeated slowly, and Jack nodded.

‘I drowned. Thin ice, you know? It was kind of a me-or-someone-else thing.’

‘Who?’

‘My little sister.’

Aster relaxed his grip, bit by bit, and was relieved to see no wince, no change of expression on Jack’s face - good. Aster would be kicking himself if his momentary panic had hurt Jack. ‘So ye pulled her out, or -’

‘No, I fell through, I got her onto the thicker ice,’ Jack said. He patted the staff beside him, always near but not always in his hands, no longer the security blanket it had needed to be, Aster suspected. ‘That’s where I got the crook, actually. Fell through with me. I figure that’s what the Moon saw in me, why he picked me.’

Aster nodded, eyes on Jack’s hand, no longer on Aster’s wrist. He missed it already, and would have pulled away, thinking the contact finished, had Jack not leaned against the brace of his paw even more when he’d let go.

Aster considered the breadth of what he was being trusted with, the fact that he was the first Jack had told - his heart flipping over when he recalled that - and swallowed.

‘So,’ he said, when they’d both been quiet a moment. ‘Tell me about her. Yer sister,’ he clarified, when Jack’s gaze snapped back over to him.

Jack fair lit up, blue eyes gone bright, and his hand returned to Aster’s arm, squeezing. Aster felt like he’d been given the world, and settled in to listen.

  
  


Jack wasn’t sure how long he rambled about his sister, about his mother and father and the village he’d grown up in - hours, it must have been. Aster was on par with Sandy when it came to being a good listener, it seemed. Maybe not about other stuff; Jack could see him getting really passionate about a debate, green eyes sparking and voice getting louder as he went. That was a bad thought train to be having right now, though, when Aster still had his paw on Jack’s shoulder all these hours later.

Jack realised he’d been petting Aster’s arm, little strokes of his fingers through the soft fur, and almost recoiled before he thought about how obvious that would be. Instead, he dropped his hand to the dirt again, nonchalant, and was pretty sure he’d imagined the disappointment that flared in Aster’s eyes.

See, here was the thing - Jack didn’t have a problem when it came to being in love with Aster. It kind of felt inevitable, like how the world should work and maybe always was going to; it didn’t matter what Aster looked like or who he was, because he was  _ Aster,  _ that was the only important part.

The problem was Jack.

Jack shook the thoughts away, and couldn’t resist leaning against Aster’s paw again, even though it was already basically the only thing holding him up. Aster had put it there, and hadn’t pulled it away - so it had to be okay, right?

‘Sorry,’ he said, and laughed a bit. ‘I’ve just been talking at you. Kind of rude, huh?’

‘Don’t be sorry, Frostbite,’ Aster said, smiling, and the green-yellow light of the Warren made his eyes look like they were glowing. Copper burned a green that bright, Jack remembered, and resolved to remember that. ‘I liked hearing about it. It’s good that ye had that. I’m happy ye had that.’

Jack grinned back, feeling a little light-headed, like he was floating. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Your family?’

Jack had never seen a flame die so quickly, the way Aster’s eyes went wide and lost the light.

He felt his stomach drop out from under him, and couldn’t help the way he reached out with his free hand, as if to snatch the words back. ‘I’m sorry,’ he blurted out, even before Aster could say something. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t have to -’

Aster’s other paw came up and caught his, grey furred fingers gentle around his. ‘No, Frostbite, it’s fine,’ he said, blinking, and already the light was returning, the expression of surprise softening. ‘I wasn’t expecting the question, is all.’

‘You don’t have to answer,’ Jack said, feeling miserable, even as his body screeched that Aster was  _ holding his hand,  _ had a paw on his  _ shoulder,  _ they were halfway into a hug and closer than Jack had thought they were -

And then Aster had an arm around him and was hugging him near, and Jack nearly toppled over himself, but his hands were buried in the thick fur of Aster’s back and he was halfway laying across Aster’s lap but it was okay, Aster was hugging him, it had to be okay.

‘I want to, ye great dill,’ Aster said, the words muffled into Jack’s hair, and Jack felt like light had to be pouring out of his skin. ‘I told ye, I was surprised. No dramas, Frostbite, it’s fine.’

Jack just held on, because he wasn’t sure when Aster was going to end the hug, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to do it.

Aster shuffled a bit, and Jack’s heart fell, until he realised  _ (miracle of miracles)  _ that Aster was just adjusting his grip. Jack sat up a bit and they made it work, huddled close, neither saying aloud what they were doing. Jack wasn’t sure if Aster was doing this for Jack’s comfort, or his own, but with Jack’s brow resting against Aster’s shoulder amd their arms loosely hooked together, Jack didn’t care.

‘Well, first off,’ Aster said, sounding a bit amused about it (Jack couldn’t see, tucked into Aster’s side as he was), ‘ye know I’m not human, right?’

‘I think I might have noticed,’ Jack said, a touch dry, and Aster’s laughter reverberated around him, rumbling alongside the dazzle of Joy in Jack’s chest.

Jack had decided, shortly after he’d realised he was in love with Aster, that  _ Joy  _ was the light’s name; he’d tried on a few others, and had been really partial to some of them, but none of them quite fit the variety of stuff that made the light flare up. Other than Happiness, and Joy sounded cooler, in Jack’s head.

It was comfortingly bright, at the moment, as Aster laughed, and Jack grinned into his fur.

‘Well, reckon ye’d have to walk around with yer eyes closed not to notice,’ Aster agreed after a moment. ‘So, no, I’m not human. To be quite honest with ye…’ He took a deep breath, and Jack could feel the way the air filled his chest, released smoothly on a sigh. ‘Well. I’m not from this planet, either.’

Jack paused. Wriggled back a bit, so he could look Aster in the eye - Aster, who was looking nervous, ears tucked in and mouth tight. ‘So, wait, you’re an alien?’

‘Aye,’ Aster said, watching Jack closely.

‘Like. Space alien. Final frontier, a long time ago in a galaxy far far away?’

Aster rolled his eyes, which was a relief from the nervousness. ‘I think ye’re mixing a few things up, there, but yes. I’m a Pooka.’ His paws, set loosely on the flat of Jack’s back, tightened a bit. ‘The last one.’

That took Jack a second to process. Well. A whole bunch of seconds. It was a big thing, what Aster was implying, and left a whole lot of questions in Jack’s mouth. More important, though, was the sentence that was among them.

Jack ignored the nerves in his stomach and pressed near, setting his head back on Aster’s shoulder and hugging him tightly. ‘That sucks,’ he said, because it was the truest way he knew how to say it. ‘I’m really sorry.’

Aster’s arms tightened around him, too, and Jack felt the fur of his cheeks brush over his forehead as Aster leaned down and rested his cheek against the crown of Jack’s head.

‘It does, at that,’ Aster said softly. ‘Thank ye.’

Jack just held on more tightly, because of the things he wanted to do  _ (nuzzle and pet and stroke and hold)  _ it was the only one available to him.

‘I reckon ye have questions,’ Aster said after a moment, when the tight hug returned to the loose almost-cuddle from before (who was Jack trying to kid, here, it was totally a cuddle, he was cuddling  _ Aster,  _ he felt like he was about to buoy off the ground).

‘About a million,’ Jack admitted. ‘But I don’t know how to ask any of them.’

‘Just like before, Frostbite,’ Aster replied. ‘Ye just - ask. If it’s not the answer ye were looking for, ye can ask a different way. No dramas.’

‘Okay,’ Jack agreed, then paused, trying to sort through the crazy number of questions. Finally, he settled on his original one. ‘What about your family? You can tell me about them. If you want.’

Aster shuffled a bit. ‘Pooka were a little different, when it came to family,’ he began slowly. ‘A dam and sire would have a litter of kits at a time, up to nine in a lot. We tended to be closer with our littermates than our oldies.’

Jack nodded, thinking that over. ‘Did you get along with them?’

‘Course not,’ Aster snorted. ‘We were a litter of five, closer knit than most. Reckon most siblings fight as often as they love each other, though.’

Jack made a face, remembering his sister, her scrunched up little face when he’d tease, the way she’d tattle to their mother when a trick went a little awry. ‘Yeah, that’s fair.’

Aster chuckled. ‘We fought. I loved them. They loved me. I’ve not thought of them for a long time, though. No use to missing ‘em more than I have to.’

Jack swallowed. Thought of his own sister, long dead and buried, when he’d not even known she existed. ‘It’s good to remember them sometimes,’ Jack murmured, and there was a pause in Aster’s breathing.

‘Aye,’ he agreed. ‘It is.’

‘So, come on,’ Jack said when it had been quiet a moment, grasping for a subject change through the griefs intermingling in the air between them. ‘Alien. Means you’ve gotta have weird alien powers, right?’

‘Weird?’ Aster sputtered.

‘Yeah,’ Jack said, cheering up a bit at Aster’s response. ‘I mean, now I don’t know what’s Guardian about you and what’s alien. Come on, impress me.’

There was a twitch that ran through Aster’s frame, but Aster was already speaking before Jack could address it.

‘Not much comes from the Guardian, to give ye the drum,’ Aster said, sounding wry about it. ‘Guardianship doesn’t give ye any powers, so far as I can tell. Everyone came in with the powers they have, other than the lights. And I reckon we might have had them before then, too.’

Jack tilted his head back, thinking about it, and had to agree; he couldn’t pick out a time when the light in his chest had flickered on. He thought maybe he just hadn’t known what to look for.

‘So I have me magic, as does most anyone who’s sat and read a book for a minute or two,’ Aster continued with a snort.

‘What kind of books?’ Jack asked, because he was curious; he knew his magic couldn’t do the kind of things Aster’s could, or Nick’s or Tooth’s or Sandy’s, but theirs seemed so much more… constructive. Even with his better control (and it was so much better than before, he could do almost anything without the staff now, even if the staff made it easier and more powerful), he knew he couldn’t make anything like they could.

‘Stories,’ Aster replied immediately. ‘That’s where ye start, with stories. Things that make ye feel things, make yer heart jump and yer brain whirr. From there, ye can get technical, but if ye’ve ever read a story, ye can do magic. Not something ye should worry about, mind,’ Aster said, and chuckled. ‘Jack, ye’ve got more power in yer little toe than most people ever see after lifetimes of study.’

‘No good if I can’t figure out how to use it,’ Jack muttered.

‘North might be able to help ye,’ Aster said gently. ‘Unfortunately, most of me books are - well, ye won’t be able to read them.’

Jack nodded; made sense, if they were alien books. Maybe they were written in an ink only Aster could see, or maybe didn’t look like books at all.

‘Sides the magic,’ Aster said, and when Jack looked up Aster’s eyes were trained on him, ‘I can shapeshift. Every Pooka could - though some better than most.’

Jack stared. ‘Okay, that’s cool,’ he said, the words dropping out of his mouth before he could really consider them. ‘Like - how? Magic, too?’

‘In a sense,’ Aster said, and there was an expression of relief on his face that Jack didn’t know the source of but was happy to see. ‘I can do it consciously, into most any living shape ye can think of.’ His face went a little wry. ‘S’why I don’t eat chocky all that often - makes it unpredictable. Well. Not unpredictable, I can tell ye precisely how it will react, but -’

‘Wait, you can’t even eat your own chocolate?’ Jack demanded, horrified. ‘Are you kidding?’

Aster’s face was sheepish. ‘Wish I could, Frostbite, but doesn’t have a good effect on me system. Unless ye need it, in an emergency, but otherwise? Not good for day-to-day consumption.’

‘Oh, man, that’s awful,’ Jack groaned. ‘That’s so unfair.’

‘Believe ye me, I agree with ye,’ Aster said with a bit of a wistful sigh. ‘But the extra arms and the loss of a lot of me common sense isn’t worth it.’

‘Okay, extra arms. Like Stitch?’

‘I have no idea what ye’re on about, but sure.’

Jack rolled his eyes and nudged Aster in the side with his elbow. Aster returned the gesture with a nudge of his own and a fond look. They were still cuddling. It was  _ wonderful. _

‘So, shapeshifting, magic,’ Jack said. ‘Anything else, Bun-bun?’

‘Time-travel, but reckon that goes under ‘magic’, and it’s not something I do if I can help it,’ Aster said offhandedly. Jack really, really considered asking, but the thought was knocked clean out of his head when Aster added, ‘Ah. And the, er, soulmate thing. Though I’m not sure that’s the right word for it.’

‘The what thing?’ Jack asked, hoping he’d heard wrong with every cell in his body.

Aster shifted uncomfortably, and Jack’s heart sank. ‘Pooka fell in love once in their lifetimes, Frostbite,’ Aster said, each word precise, like he was weighing it carefully. ‘It wasn’t a destined thing, but we did only get the one. And, er, well. We’re effectively immortal, unless disease or violence made us cark it. So. It was a big part of the culture. Mind you, wasn’t really something I dealt with, having never found mine, so I can’t tell you more than stories about it.’

Jack’s heart dipped down and lifted back up so quickly that he only just managed to remember Aster could feel Hope, and shoved the thoughts away. In a bit, he told himself, and since it was going to take a little while for him to figure it all out anyway, that was fine. ‘Huh,’ he said instead, thinking in exactly zero directions other than this conversation. He had to. He could do it. ‘Neat. You learn something new every day, I guess.’

‘It doesn’t bother ye?’ Aster asked, and Jack jerked; there was a lot of emotion there, a lot more naked than Aster usually let show, more raw and more -  _ more.  _ Nerves, and fear, and -

‘No way,’ Jack said, sure as could be. After all, Aster could be just about anything, and Jack was certain this feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away. It might change over time, settle into something that hurt a little less and weighed a little less, ingrained into him at last, but it wasn’t going anywhere. Jack knew that in his bones, in the warp and weft of the magic and soul and flesh that made him what he was. ‘I mean, I know more about you, right? That doesn’t make you someone new. Just someone - bigger.’

Aster hugged him tightly, roughly, and Jack realised just how deeply this must have been bothering him. It had probably eaten at him the way wanting to talk about his memories had been eating at Jack. Well, not entirely - Aster wasn’t in love with him, so it was more of an  _ I don’t want to chase off the skittish friend all over again, _ Jack suspected. Still. It was scary, sharing parts of yourself, no matter what kind. Jack was glad Aster had.

The visit went on a little longer, and there was something more fluid in the way they spoke, now, some barrier removed at last. Neither of them mentioned the cuddling, which Jack was grateful for, because it meant he didn’t have to try and think about the thing he was trying to not think about.

It kept creeping in at the edges, but Jack had some idea of how to handle that, now. More practice at it, anyway.

Still, it wasn’t long until whatever they’d been working on (Jack couldn’t tell you, for the life of him, what it had been - weeding, maybe?) was finished, and Jack left, since there was a storm brewing over the southern tip of Argentina that he wanted to keep an eye on.

Like leaving the Warren was the last straw, the thought finally made itself too loud for Jack to ignore, even as he flew steadily East over the Pacific, towards the rising sun.

_ I have a chance. _

Jack considered the thought, pretending it didn’t hurt to hope so hard, and put it aside to focus on the storm. He was pretty sure he needed help working through this thought, from someone who was unbiased and might have, if not advice, then some good insights. And there were three people in the world Jack trusted to have a good bead on difficult situations like this.

The first was Aster, of course, but since a) Aster was the source of the situation and b) Jack would have trusted him with this even if he was terrible at it, Jack was well aware that wasn’t an option. The second was Sandy, but the chances of word reaching Aster’s long ears before Jack was ready were too great - Sandy was wonderful, he  _ was,  _ but he was also a ferocious gossip.

Which left one person.

‘Won’t Jaime be surprised to see  _ me _ in July,’ Jack muttered under his breath, and went to work.

  
  


‘I’d make a Christmas in July joke, but I think that’s more of a Santa Claus thing.’

Jack rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Jaime. Jaime mimicked the whole thing right back, which had been endearing when he was two feet shorter than Jack and was ridiculous now that he was almost half a foot taller.

At a gangly thirteen, almost fourteen, Jaime had grown like a weed in the last year and a half, and it was like his bones had decided to go right ahead and do their thing without giving the rest of him time to catch up. His voice hadn’t yet begun to change, but his face had taken on some more adult lines, and fun-loving or not, Jack was beginning to see the way he would look as an adult, as he grew older. Jack was just relieved that he didn’t seem to be losing his belief as he grew up - though, Jack supposed growing up didn’t always necessarily mean that you didn’t believe in things anymore.

It was weird, to think that someday soon, Jaime would look older than him (and it hurt to think that someday, his first believer, this great and wonderful kid would - oh, man, best not to think about it until he had to.)

‘Can’t I just want to say hi during the off season?’ Jack said, taking a seat on the windowsill. ‘Got a lot of free time right now, kiddo.’

‘Ugh, Jack, I’m not a  _ kid,’  _ Jaime said exasperatedly. ‘I’m a  _ teenager _ now.’

Jack snorted. ‘Okay, Mr. Bigshot Teenager,’ he said, and wiggled his fingers. Gentle snowflakes began to fall on Jaime’s head, and Jaime’s sigh of relief was so exaggerated it made Jack laugh all over again.

‘Shut up,’ Jaime said, flopping onto his bed. He’d started wearing his hair longer in the past year, and it flopped into his eyes, where it wasn’t tied back into a little ponytail at the nape of his neck. ‘You’re not the one with a broken AC. I’m  _ dying.’ _

‘I  _ am _ an AC, practically,’ Jack said, and dumped some more snow on him. Jaime just rolled around in it, unheeding of the way it soaked into his bedspread.

‘You should come visit more often in the summer,’ Jaime said. ‘Not that it’s not cool to see you in the winter. But summer could  _ definitely  _ use -’

‘There isn’t even school to use a snow day to get out of,’ Jack pointed out (very sensibly, in his opinion).

Jaime looked shiftily away, and Jack squinted at him.

‘You’re in summer school again, aren’t you.’

‘It’s not  _ my  _ fault!’ Jaime said loudly, sitting up. ‘It’s Ms. Dieman’s fault! I passed her class fair and square, but she told my mom I was  _ underperforming for my grade level  _ -’ here Jaime’s voice became nasally and high pitched, trying to imitate the teacher’s, no doubt, ‘and so Mom signed me up for summer school English classes.’

Last year it had been math, which Jaime had been struggling with, but for a long time, English and science had been his strong points. Jack frowned.

‘Underperforming?’

‘She kept failing me in the creative writing assignments,’ Jaime said, and looked miserable about it. ‘I thought they were okay - I don’t even really like them - but she said they were  _ unrealistic _ for someone my age. Mom agreed, so now I’m sitting in summer school because I was writing about -’ Jaime paused, went a little red.

‘What?’ Jack asked, tilting his head. He had no idea what Jaime could have been writing about to get them so fired up, but it was  _ Jaime.  _ It was probably aliens, or something -

‘I was - writing about… you guys,’ Jaime fessed up at last. Jack jerked, surprised. ‘Like - it wasn’t my idea!’ Jaime added hurriedly. ‘It was Monty and Pippa’s! We all were, right, we were bored and having a contest, and Caleb won by a landslide because that dirty cheater made Tooth fight off like an entire ARMY of demons, but I was the only one in English at the time and it seemed like an easy A if I’d already written it and -’

‘Whoa, wait,’ Jack said, and Jaime snapped his mouth shut. Sometimes, Jack wondered if maybe, somehow, through the years… Maybe somewhere way down the line, he and Jaime were related. At times like these, he was almost certain. ‘You were writing? About us?’

‘Yeah,’ Jaime sighed, and flopped back over. Gingerly, Jack picked his way across the room, and sat down next to him. Another shower of snowflakes dusted Jaime’s hair. ‘Like I said, Monty and Pippa’s idea. They thought it would be a cool way to spread the word, you know? Stories.’

Something Aster had said flashed in Jack’s mind, and he reached over to ruffle Jaime’s hair, who would have whined about it any other time but just pressed into the cool touch, given the heat of July. ‘I think that’s a great idea,’ Jack said, and Jaime blinked his eyes open.

‘Really? You don’t think it’s - I don’t know, kid-ish?’

Jack laughed. ‘Know what Bunny said to me the other day?’ he asked, and Jaime sat up; the kid had a big soft spot for Aster, who he thought was the coolest (right after Jack, he’d assured him one time, since Aster couldn’t make it snow inside.) ‘He said that anyone could learn magic - anyone who had sat down and read a book or two,’ Jack said, paraphrasing a bit.

Jaime’s eyes lit up. ‘What kind of books?’ he asked, and Jack grinned; oh, yeah. He was going to have to borrow Jaime’s computer one of these days, there was no  _ way _ they weren’t related. There had to be records of that kind of stuff; everything was on the internet, these days.

‘Stories,’ Jack said in answer, and grinned as the bright light in his chest went just a tinge brighter as Jaime began to smile, too. ‘Stuff that makes you feel stuff, you know? Apparently after that you can get technical, but you gotta start somewhere. So I bet writing stories is, like, twice as good.’

‘You think?’ Jaime said, and even though he was smiling, his voice was small.

‘Definitely,’ Jack confirmed, and hugged him. Jack still wasn’t great about letting people into his space, but for Aster and Jaime, he could always make an exception. It was kind of weird to hug Jaime now that he was so much taller, though.

‘Well, it doesn’t matter,’ Jaime sighed, pulling back. ‘I’ll just get through it. Plus, I start high school this fall, so I won’t have to deal with Ms. Dieman ever again.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ Jack said, and dumped some more snow on him.

‘So why did you come to visit?’ Jaime asked, and flopped back onto his bed, hands lifted and swirling the falling snow side to side. ‘Because you had a look on your face when you came in.’

‘Did not,’ Jack said, frowning.

‘Did too,’ Jaime returned. ‘That look, right there. What’s up? Why are you worried?’ He paused. ‘Is - is Pitch back?’

‘What? No way,’ Jack said, rearing back. ‘Oh, man, no way. He’s locked up good and tight, don’t worry about that.’

Jaime relaxed a bit. ‘Okay, then come on. Spill it. Or I’ll get Sophie to make you spill it. Or Cupcake.’

Jack’s shuddering was only a little bit exaggerated at the last one. Cupcake had big eyes and could sit on him, holding him in place. Sophie, he could escape. Cupcake? There were no secrets from Cupcake, once she knew someone had a secret. ‘Yeah, okay, fine,’ Jack said. ‘I came here to talk to you about it, anyway.’

‘Me?’ Jaime said, looking over. ‘Oh, man, it  _ must  _ be bad if you’re looking for help from  _ me.’ _

‘It’s not bad,’ Jack said, mulling it over. Maybe it was a little - weird, to talk to Jaime about this. He was  _ thirteen,  _ after all. But then again, Jaime was basically the most sensible person Jack knew. Jack knew Nicholas St. North, so that wasn’t saying much, but… ‘I don’t think it is. I mean, I figure you’ll tell me if it’s a bad idea, right?’

‘Are you planning a prank?’ Jaime asked, brightening up, and Jack immediately resolved to include him on the next one in thanks for this, if just the idea made him that happy.

‘No, no,’ Jack said, and Jaime groaned disappointedly. ‘Next time, promise. But…’ Jack bit his lip, and decided that Aster’s advice of just - saying stuff, that would probably work best. ‘Okay, so, I’m, uh.’  _ Deep breath, Jack, saying it aloud is like the first step to figuring this out.  _ ‘So I’m kind of in love. With Bunny. And I’m thinking about saying something. To him. Like, about it. So. Bad idea, do you think?’

Jaime was silent a moment, and Jack looked over at him, concerned; when he saw Jaime’s face, he winced. Wow, that wasn’t a good face.

‘Come on, Jack,’ Jaime said, looking flatly annoyed. ‘Pull my other leg, while you’re at it. I  _ know _ you two are spirit-married, or whatever.’

Jack took a second to parse that out, and then blurted out loudly, ‘What?!’

Jaime’s eyes went so wide Jack thought they’d pop right out. ‘Oh my god. You’re serious?’

‘Of course I’m serious!’ Jack said, clutching his staff up to his chest, staring at Jaime. ‘What the f - heck kind of joke is that?!’

‘Don’t start with the not-swearing thing, you know I hear you half the time anyway,’ Jaime said distractedly, but Jack could feel a slow-blooming, bright joy beginning to bubble away from Jaime’s direction. ‘So, wait, really? You two aren’t married or something?’

‘No, wow, definitely not,’ Jack said, but he could feel the way his face was going pink at the thought. Wow. Married to  _ Aster.  _ He hadn’t even thought of that, but that - that sounded really nice. Mostly he’d been thinking about what would happen if Aster accepted the way Jack felt, but not even if Aster returned -

On reflex he shoved the thoughts away, but remembered Aster was off in his Warren. Unless the Hope thing was more detailed than the Joy thing. Which it might be - Jack had no idea. Best to play it safe, probably.

‘How are you two not?’ Jaime asked, looking delighted with the idea. ‘Are you kidding?! This is hilarious, everyone’s going to flip -’

‘No! You can’t tell anyone!’ Jack said, flinging his hands out in a blind panic and dropping more snow on Jaime’s head, who sputtered. ‘What if he found out before I could say something?’

‘Jack, oh my god,’ Jaime said, rolling his eyes and brushing snow off his face. ‘We’ve all thought you two were married or something since we  _ met _ you.’

Jack knew he had to be red, because he felt warm all over. ‘What? No way.’

Jaime rolled his eyes. ‘Okay, well, if you two aren’t together, why not?’ he asked.

Jack dropped his gaze. ‘Um. Well, I mean, he’s not - I don’t think he -’ he was still caught up, though. ‘You guys really thought we were…?’

‘Of course we did,’ Jaime said, laughing. ‘Oh, my god. I know you can’t see yourself, but like, you talk about him  _ all the time. _ He talks about you every time we see you. We could ask about Santa or Tooth or Sandy, and somehow it always ends up back about you. And you’re really telling me that neither of you - oh, man. When can I tell Claude, he’s gonna get such a kick out of it.’

Jack quashed the hope again before it could get much bigger. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, and sighed. ‘Okay, look, I honestly was expecting more of a  _ yeah, that’s a bad idea _ from you.’

‘Why?’ Jaime asked, tilting his head.

‘I can think of a bunch of reasons why, right off the top of my head,’ Jack muttered.

Jaime sighed. ‘Okay, well, let’s start with the ones I can think of that might be bugging you, okay?’ he said, crossing his legs and turning to face Jack. ‘That’s what my mom says to do - make a list. Lists help her and me, anyway, so they might help you.’

‘Okay,’ Jack said nervously.

‘Well, first off,’ Jaime said, sitting up very straight and adopting a serious look that kind of made Jack want to laugh, ‘The obvious things. You know Bunny’s a guy, right?’

Jack  _ did _ laugh at that. ‘Uh, yeah,’ he said between chuckles. ‘Kind of hard to miss.’

‘I’m just checking!’ Jaime said, a bit flustered. ‘And you don’t have a problem with that?’

Jack paused. ‘...No? Why would I?’

‘I dunno!’ Jaime said, and poked Jack exasperatedly when he started laughing again. ‘You’re like a bajillion years old, people used to have big problems with it!’ His face took on a pensive quality. ‘Still do, actually.’

Jack took a second to consider the idea as seriously as Jaime’s expression merited. The thing was, three hundred years spent as just  _ Jack, _ without memories of how he was raised, didn’t actually have anything to say on the subject, other than thinking that wow, people were assholes about some things and not really assholes about things they  _ should _ be assholes about. So Jack could see where Jaime was coming from. However, the eighteen years before that didn’t actually contradict what Jack had felt or thought when he couldn’t remember them. In fact… huh. He wasn’t sure he ever liked a girl. He wasn’t sure he’d known there were other options.

It hadn’t been important, and still wasn’t, in Jack’s opinion. Besides, spirits didn’t tend to care, in his experience - the few times he’d been around others long enough to pick up on things like coupley-stuff, there were just as many people who didn’t have a gender at all as there were people who did. Something the spirit sphere of the world had gotten right, at least. One of the few things they’d gotten right (Jack still felt kind of bitter about a lot of it, so sue him. He’d gotten to spend a big chunk of the last few years not dealing with them, but he knew that couldn’t last forever).

‘No, it’s not a problem,’ Jack said firmly.

‘Well, that’s good,’ Jaime said, and seemed to deflate with released tension. ‘Oh, man, Caleb’s going to be really relieved - oh my god!’ Jaime slapped a hand over his mouth. ‘I wasn’t supposed to say that!’

Jack smiled. ‘It’s okay,’ he said, and patted Jaime’s knee. ‘So is Caleb…?’

‘He likes guys,’ Jaime said slowly. ‘He told his mom, and she’s not happy about it, but she’s not being mean about it, I don’t think. Claude’s got his back, but he’s been really nervous about telling anyone else, especially you guys. I think it would make him feel way worse if you guys…’

‘I don’t think any of us think badly of it,’ Jack said. ‘I mean. I don’t think people like us generally do. Besides, we love you guys. We’d never think badly about you.’

‘Promise to act like you didn’t know when he tells you,’ Jaime demanded. ‘He’s gonna kill me if he knows I outed him first.’

‘I promise,’ Jack said, and grinned. ‘But I’ve got blackmail on you, now.’

‘Ugh,’ Jaime groaned feelingly, and then perked up. ‘Oh, no, you don’t! I know this thing now!’

Jack felt his face fall, and Jaime’s triumphant ‘ha!’ was like lightning in his chest.

‘Then second,’ Jaime continued a second, ‘is obviously that Bunny’s a bunny.’

‘He’s not,’ Jack said immediately, then cracked yet another grin; he was always smiling, near Jaime. ‘Oh, man, you’re going to love this. Bunny’s an  _ alien.’ _

Jaime’s mouth dropped open. ‘Shut up.’

‘No, seriously.’

‘Okay, but like an alien? A real alien?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Does he have a spaceship?’

‘I have no idea, but wait until he tells you himself,’ Jack advised. ‘Then you can ask all you like.’

‘That’s fair,’ Jaime said, eyes still dancing. ‘Oh, man, that’s so cool. I didn’t think he could get cooler.’

‘Right?’ Jack said, and this time when Jaime flopped down, Jack flopped down beside him, conjuring a light snow above them. Jaime’s bed was practically soaked at this point, but Jaime wasn’t complaining. ‘So he’s not a bunny. He’s an alien. Which - well, I don’t really think that’s weird either. He’s still Bunny, you know?’

‘Oh, yeah, you’re in love,’ Jaime said knowledgeably, and when Jack elbowed him, he elbowed Jack right back. ‘Mom says that when you love somebody, all that kind of stuff doesn’t matter anymore. So yep, you’re in real, genuine, bona fide love.’

Jack laughed. ‘Okay, yeah.’

‘Alright, but those are the only things I can think of that would make you not want to marry him, or date him, or whatever. What would you do for a date, anyway?’

‘I don’t know,’ Jack said, frowning. ‘I mean. We mostly hang out in the Warren. We garden. It’s nice. Maybe we could just - do that? And call it a date?’

‘No, no, no,’ Jaime said. ‘You’ve got to do big stuff, that’s what all the movies say. Like dinner, or a party, or - okay, hold on, we’ll talk about that later. Why  _ aren’t _ you two - together?’

Jack swallows. ‘Um. It’s not about him. It’s - I mean, I’m me. So…’

‘What does that mean?’ Jaime asked, shrewd as he squinted over at Jack.

‘Well, I mean - first off, I mean,’ Jack said, hands flailing a bit above them, snow going everywhere. Honestly, he’d be embarrassed about the apparent lack of control if it wasn’t so hot and Jaime clearly didn’t mind. ‘I mean. I don’t want him to feel like he has to - be okay with it? I don’t want him to say yes because I’m… me.’

‘What?’

‘He’s helped me out so much,’ Jack said helplessly. ‘I don’t want him to say yes because he feels like he has to, or I’m going to go back to the way I was. Or, like - think that I feel this way  _ because _ he helped me, either. Like - when people fall in love with their doctors or the firefighter who pulled them out of the building.’

Jaime’s face was very serious when Jack looked back over. ‘Was it that bad?’ he asked quietly. Jack hadn’t told him a lot of what had happened - sensible and smart or not, Jaime was still a kid. Kids didn’t need to hear all the awful details, in Jack’s opinion, just like they didn’t need to be lied to. Jack had told him the generalities of it, if not the memory stuff. He’d wanted to save that for Aster. Aster deserved to know first.

Jack swallowed. ‘...yeah,’ he admitted. ‘It - it really was.’

Jaime rolled over and hugged Jack again, tight as could be, before rolling back - way before Jack could make himself hug back, surprised as he was. ‘I’m sorry,’ Jaime said, and meant it. Jack could see it.

‘Thanks, kiddo.’

‘I’m a  _ teenager,  _ Jack!’

‘So you keep telling me,’ Jack laughed. ‘I know, I know.’

‘But…’ Jaime elbowed him again. ‘You know Bunny doesn’t think that about you, right?’

‘Think what?’

‘That you - you needed  _ saving,  _ or something. He told Claude and Caleb and Monty that you’re the strongest Guardian of them all.’

Jack went red. ‘What?’

‘Yeah, like one time, he saw you get rid of a storm that covered like half of the continent in under a minute,’ Jaime said, going a little starry-eyed. ‘Full on blizzard. You saved Easter! Like, he said that he was pretty sure that if Sandy hadn’t showed up, you could have kicked Pitch’s butt all by yourself.’

Jack felt a bit like a deer must when headlights caught them out. ‘It wasn’t half the continent,’ he said, rubbing his left arm with his right hand. ‘It was just the coast. And a few hundred miles inland.’

‘Okay, that’s twice as cool as the alien thing,’ Jaime said with great authority. ‘Seriously. Anyone can be an alien. The vice president might be an alien. But you can control the  _ weather.’ _

‘Well,’ Jack said, mortified. ‘Thanks.’

‘So, yeah, Bunny definitely doesn’t think that you’re like - weak, or whatever you’re thinking,’ Jaime said. He was grinning. ‘Come on, this is kind of fun. What’s the next one? You’ve got at least, like, two more, I can tell.’

Jack rolled his eyes. ‘Why did I think this was a good idea, again?’

‘Because you have good ideas from time to time,’ Jaime said sweetly. Jack elbowed him again, and was elbowed back once more. ‘Come on. I’ve got Cupcake on speed-dial -’

‘That is not necessary,’ Jack said hastily, and Jaime laughed loudly as below, the front door opened and shut again.

‘Who are you talking to?’ Jaime’s mother called up. Jaime looked over at Jack and grinned.

‘Jack Frost!’ he hollered back.

Jaime’s mom groaned and laughed. ‘Okay, fine, tell him I said hi!’ She called up teasingly.

‘Mom says hi,’ Jaime said to Jack. Jack shoved him. Jaime shoved him back. ‘Seriously. Fess. Up.’

‘Fine,’ Jack grumped, trying his best to ignore his nerves. ‘Um. So there’s a thing, about Aster being an alien.’

‘Oooh, Aster,’ Jaime singsonged.

‘Shut it, brat,’ Jack laughed; he was usually better about calling Aster  _ Bunny _ where the kids could hear. It was just Jaime, though. Still - Aster had asked  _ him _ to call him by his name. No one else. ‘But seriously.’

‘Seriously, what? Is Bunny like actually a ball of energy who just  _ looks _ like a bunny?’

‘Uh, no,’ Jack said, thinking of how Aster’s fur had felt under his hands when they’d cuddled. ‘No, he’s real. It’s just - apparently his kind of alien only love once. Ever. In their lives.’

Jaime’s face fell. ‘Oh, no. Does he already -’

‘No,’ Jack interrupted, because he could feel Jaime’s happiness dying back, which was an awful feeling. ‘No, he hasn’t. Ever.’

Jaime frowned. ‘Then what’s the problem? Sounds like he’s up for grabs, to me.’

Jack made a face. ‘Oh, man, don’t say it that way, it makes him sound like - like an apple on a tree, or something.’

Jaime laughed. ‘Okay, okay,’ he said. ‘But seriously. Why is that a problem?’

‘He only gets  _ one,’  _ Jack stressed. ‘Ever! And apparently he’s been around for like - ever. Pooka are immortal, or something. So, I mean. He’s had all this time and he knows all of these people and I guess I don’t want him to...’

‘What?’ Jaime asked, but Jack hated the way the words wanted to come out, didn’t want to say them. ‘Jack?’

‘...waste it. On me.’

‘Jack!’ Jaime said, sounding scandalised. ‘Come on! It wouldn’t be a waste! You’re the coolest person ever, he’d be really lucky to marry you or date you or whatever people like you guys do!’

Jack shuffled. ‘Maybe,’ he said doubtfully.

‘Plus, he totally doesn’t know that many people,’ Jaime said, sounding like the very thought was hilarious. ‘He like - knows you guys. And us. And doesn’t really talk to other people?’

‘How do you know?’

‘Jack. Anybody who knows him for ten minutes can tell he’s just like Monty - he likes to be by himself,’ Jaime filled in at Jack’s blank look. ‘It’s just how they’re made, Mom says. Well, she says that about Monty. She’d say that about Bunny, too, if she believed in him.’

‘So?’ Jack said, knowing it was stubborn and unable to stop it.

‘So, I really don’t think he’s found a bunch of other people better than you. I don’t think he could. You’re the best person ever. You even beat Bigfoot. You even beat Bunny himself. Seriously, if he wanted to pick someone for that one love kind of thing, he’d be dumb to not pick you. That’s what I think anyway.’

Jack grinned at Jaime, who grinned back. ‘Thanks, Mr. Bigshot Teenager,’ he said, and Jaime rolled his eyes.

‘Anything else?’

Jack sighed. ‘I… don’t know how to bring it up. It sounds dumb to just blurt out ‘I love you’, right? Right. That sounds dumb.’

‘Yeah, kind of does,’ Jaime said. ‘I mean. I don’t know how to ask out people, either. How did you guys ask out people when you were a kid?’

Jack frowned. ‘I mean… not the way people do nowadays. You just kind of got - married, I think? I don’t remember people dating, anyway, not really. You asked permission from their parents, I do remember that.’ Jack’s heart twisted a bit. ‘I really don’t think I can do that here.’

‘Could you ask the person’s family?’ Jaime asked, rolling onto his stomach.

‘Yeah, if they didn’t have parents, but -’

‘Well, then, you could ask the other Guardians,’ Jaime suggested. ‘You guys are all like family, you know? So it might be the same. Then, you’ll know that they’re okay with it, too. Which I think might help with how scared you are.’

‘I’m not scared,’ Jack scoffed, but turned the idea over in his head. ‘You know, that’s a really good idea.’

‘It’s not your fault you’re dumb about this,’ Jaime said with some authority. ‘Everybody’s dumb about this kind of thing for themselves. You’ve just gotta go for it.’

Jack squinted at Jaime. ‘So, are we going to talk about you, then? And why you have Cupcake on speed-dial?’

‘I have everyone on speed-dial!’ Jaime protested, but he was turning pink.

‘Then what’s the point of speed-dial?’ Jack pointed out.

Jaime scraped together a snowball out of the wet slushy mess and mashed it into Jack’s face before he could roll away. ‘You don’t get to say anything, Jack!’ he said, wiggling up into a sitting position. ‘You’ve been married to Bunny for like five years and neither of you even knew it!’

Jack spun a perfect snowball out of the air and caught Jaime square in the tummy with it. ‘Okay, but you’ve had a crush on -’

‘I can’t hear you,’ Jaime said loudly, stuffing his fingers in his ears. ‘I can’t hear you lying -’

Unfortunately, both hands in his ears meant he couldn’t defend from the snowball to the face.

‘I’ll meet you outside,’ Jack said, grinning.

‘Usual place?’ Jaime asked, grinning right back.

‘Absolutely. Grab everyone else. No snow day,’ and here Jaime groaned, ‘but I think a bit of a secret snow fight might make everyone’s day.’

‘Awesome!’ Jaime said, and scrambled out the door before Jack could say anything else.

Jack hopped out the window, and began to float lazily towards the lake, humming to himself, always the same song.

Maybe Jaime was right. Maybe he just needed to go for it. Plus, Jack thought that if Aster turned him down, they could always still be friends, right? It probably wouldn’t even hurt after a little while.

And if he didn’t - if, by some miracle, this all worked out -

That was in the future, though. For right now, he had a snow-fight to win at.

‘Jack, Jack, king of Green,’ he sang under his breath, the lake and the first two kids (Claude and Caleb) coming into sight. ‘When the leaves all fall, he’s still a-spring…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two notes on this chapter: I basically wrote it with Florence + The Machine’s ‘Third Eye’ on loop, especially Aster and Jack’s conversation, and in this chapter, we really see the difference in how these two consider time. Seeing as Aster’s like ‘Eh, give him a century or two,’ and Jack’s just ‘four years has been too long how do i get this train rolling’  
> for quick reference, the majority of this chapter takes place five years after the events of Compulsion, and four years after the events of Habit.


	8. Passion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was... a bit longer than I anticipated. Still waiting on that exam, but I'm not going to make you wait any longer for this. The build up has been intense, honestly. It's good practise for the next slow-burn project, though ;D
> 
> This is the next to last chapter of _In the Hearts of Men; Desire_ will be up next Sunday.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience.

Jack took a deep breath of the high, thin air. Two. Three, in fact - it wasn’t like a deep breath ever hurt anyone, and also the more of them he took, the more he could put this off.

_How long am I going to put this off, huh?_ Jack thought, a bit irritable with himself. It was late November now, December a scant few days away, and he’d been putting this visit off since his talk with Jaime in July.

He could say it was because he was busy, but he’d be lying. The past two years Winter had been very warm, and this season was looking to be more of the same; Jack didn’t mind - Winter ran in cycles and would decide when it felt like being a howler again - but it left him with far too much time on his hands, unable to make many of the storms that he wanted to. He still kept snow on the ground, and much of Europe and Northern Asia was already dusted white, but his distinct lack of stuff to do only made the fact that he was avoiding this more and more obvious.

Well, maybe to no one but him and Jaime. That was enough to Jack, and still got him teased every time he got anywhere near Burgess, which was weird - he was used to doing the teasing.

Beneath him, Tooth Palace sprawled out in all its gold and white and pink beauty, tall spires and interwoven balconies not precisely _small_ below, but delicate. Jack liked this place - liked the places that all of the Guardians had. Some more than others (Jack felt a flush creep up his cheeks, but ignored it), but they all had their own draws. Tooth Palace’s draw was that it was so sharply _pretty,_ like stained glass. Jack suspected that if he spent as much time here as he did at the Warren (the flush deepened a bit), the colours and the heat would get to him, but it was nice for visits.

Visits. Which he should be doing right now, instead of dithering hundreds of feet in the air, staff clutched in one hand like a child’s doll.

Below streamed the fairies in all directions, countless bodies in a glinting blue-green cloud; he’d tried counting them once, but gave up after a few thousand, and Tooth had refused to tell him how many there were with a mischievous grin on her face. He descended slowly, and he knew the instant when he caught their eyes, because a few diverted away from the mass to chirp hellos. Amongst them, yellow crest like a sign, flew Baby Tooth, who quickly shooed away her sisters and nuzzled into the hollow of Jack’s throat.

Jack curled around her a bit - she was so small, it never took much - and sighed, happily. He hadn’t seen her in months, and she was clearly very, very annoyed about it, judging by the way her embrace became a bit more pointy than it had a few seconds before.

‘Hey, ow!’ Jack said, and pulled away a bit; she flew back and landed in his already cupped palm, frown narrowing her pretty mismatched eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to stay away! I had stuff to do!’

She gave him an unimpressed look to rival Aster when North tried to proclaim Christmas the better holiday yet again. She chittered and poked the meat of his palm with her sharp nose.

‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry,’ Jack replied contritely. ‘I mean, I did have stuff to do, but it wasn’t so much that I couldn’t have stopped by.’

She chirped her forgiveness, then tilted her head with an inquisitive trill.

‘I have to talk to Tooth. It’s kind of important, but I’ve been - uh, nervous.’

Baby Tooth tapped her forehead and then her chest twice, head still at the curious tilt.

‘It’s not a secret anymore, Baby Tooth,’ Jack pointed out. Everyone knew that he’d gotten his memories back, Tooth perhaps best of all - though Aster was still the only one who knew what those memories contained. Another flush began to build in Jack’s cheeks at the thought of Aster, but he continued on. ‘And no, it’s not about that.’

Then, to his horror, Baby Tooth smiled and held up her hands to her head, cupped and tilted forward in an approximation of rabbit ears.

‘What?! What makes you think it has to do with him?’ Jack sputtered.

Baby Tooth winked. That was almost worse.

‘Okay, shoo,’ Jack said, knowing he’d gone an alarming red and scowling at Baby Tooth’s twittering laughter. ‘Go on, you’ve got work, I’m gonna go find Tooth.’

Baby Tooth blew him a kiss as she took off from his hand, still smiling, and Jack groaned; it was like having a little sister all over again. The thought sat warm in his chest beside the Joy glow, though, and when Jack landed gently on one of the balconies, he was smiling, if still a little pink. Hopefully that was just Baby Tooth being her usual perceptive self.

Another fairy, a pink feather with a bit of a curl to it in the center of her forehead crest, chirped at him, and he followed her to the main hub of activity (though at this point, he was pretty sure he could find his way.) Tooth was, as ever, in the thick of it, though she’d been training some of the fairies to take on parts of the load - the pink-feathered fairy was one of them, along with Baby Tooth and one with a bright red chest and almost no blue in her plumage. With a quick, chirping exchange, the pink feathered fairy took Tooth’s place, and Tooth soared over.

‘Jack!’ she said brightly when she neared enough to be heard over the din of the humming fairies and porcelain clicks of tooth boxes. ‘Hello! It’s been a while, we wondered where you’d gotten to!’

She stopped just inside his personal space bubble, which was better than most days; she had as much trouble with other people’s personal space as Jack had with other people _in_ his personal space. Sometimes, it was like two skittish animals trying to interact, when it came to them. Jack wasn’t sure if it was the whole Tooth Fairy thing (hands under pillows while someone was asleep didn’t strike him as particularly aware of that kind of thing) or something else, but they were slowly negotiating it out.

‘I’ve just been busy,’ Jack said, and winced at the automatic lie. ‘Okay, not really, but I, uh, need to talk to you, and I didn’t want to.’

Tooth blinked her large eyes. ‘What about, dear? Your memories?’

Jack shook his head. ‘No, not that,’ he said, and swallowed. ‘I kind of need to talk to you about… Aster. Actually.’

A look passed over Tooth’s face, too quick for Jack to read, and was replaced by a neutral sort of gaze. ‘Is something wrong? Did you two have a fight?’

‘No, no way,’ Jack blurted. They hadn’t so far. He suspected they might, someday, when they were more comfortable with each other and thought it was safe to do so, but Jack could only imagine what about. If maybe something had gone wrong? Maybe if they’d met differently? Jack couldn’t think of what they’d fight about, unless it was… well, Jack’s feelings might cause a fight. That was an unpleasant thought. ‘No, it’s - can we talk somewhere else?’

Tooth jerked, and looked around, as if she’d forgotten they were in the middle of the palace, for all the fairies to hear. ‘Oh, of course,’ she said, and gave him a smile, a little worried and smaller than usual. ‘Let’s have some tea, hm?’

Jack thought of the masala chai she normally served, and nodded. ‘That sounds good,’ he admitted.

‘Don’t worry, Jack,’ she reassured as she led him deeper into the palace, ‘we’ll sort it all out.’

‘I hope we will,’ Jack muttered under his breath.

The room she led him to looked precisely the same as the last time he visited it - it seemed to be Tooth’s area for living, and always seemed a little disused, like it only saw people when she had guests. It was comfortable though, if warm, thick with cushions and wall hangings and low tables, and she began to prepare a pot of tea, humming under her breath as she went. It didn’t sound like the music Jack usually heard, through North America and Europe; it sounded like it had twice the usual amount of notes.

‘Here,’ she said at last, when the tea was steeped and they’d been quiet for a while. She handed him a delicately blue cup, and sipped out of her own identical one. ‘Whatever is the matter, Jack?’

The tea seemed to go a little bitter on Jack’s tongue, and he swallowed before setting the cup aside. ‘Nothing’s really the matter,’ he said, drawing the words out, because he still didn’t want to say it, still didn’t want to maybe turn Tooth against him, make her think - well, whatever she might think when he told her the truth. ‘It’s just - kind of weird, and embarrassing.’

‘I’m very used to hearing embarrassing things,’ Tooth said, leaning forward a bit. ‘And keeping secrets. Memories, dear.’

‘I know.’

‘Then know that I’ll keep it secret, if you need, and that I won’t think badly of you,’ she said. A bit of wryness spilled over her face. ‘Even if I have in the past.’

Jack nodded quickly, before this could turn into another apology about past mistakes, and resolved to get this over with in the same way - quickly. ‘So I’m in love with Aster.’

Tooth spilled her entire cup of tea down her front.

That probably wasn’t good, Jack reflected as she gaped at him.

‘You’re in love,’ she said after a moment of wide-eyed staring. ‘With Bunny?’

‘Uh. Yeah,’ Jack said, and swallowed. ‘Are you - are you mad?’

‘Mad?’ she squeaked. ‘No, I’m ecs - I mean, no, no no no! Not mad! Not at all! Really?’

‘Really,’ Jack repeated, staring at her a bit. Well. This wasn’t what he’d thought would happen. He’d expected her to be a little more calm about it, at least.

‘Oh, that’s wond - I mean, hmm, yes, I can see that,’ she said, wiping at the tea with a cloth at last and still staring at him. Jack didn’t know what the look on her face was about, but decided not to question his good fortune.

‘And, well,’ Jack said, feeling awkward as hell, ‘I wanted, uh. Well, when I was -’ _alive_ ‘- before I was a spirit,’ he stumbled, ‘if you loved someone, you asked their parents or family for permission. To - you know. Court, or date, or whatever.’

‘Alright,’ Tooth nodded. After a moment, her eyes widened. ‘Oh, my goodness! Wait, you’re asking me?’

Jack swallowed. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You and North and Sandy are the family Aster has. So - I wanted to ask. I want to do this right.’

Tooth bit her lip, looking a little wobbly. Jack felt wobbly himself, but kept it reined in.

‘First,’ she said, and then grinned at him. Jack didn’t like the look of that grin. ‘You answer a question, and I’ll give my permission. Okay?’

‘Uh, sure,’ Jack said, blinking. ‘But why?’

‘You’ll find out,’ she said, and looked much more like herself - less off-balance. He’d surprised her, clearly, and Jack felt a little wave of relief; maybe he hadn’t been as obvious as he’d feared he was.

‘Okay, then,’ Jack said. ‘What’s the question?’

‘What’s Bunny’s favourite colour?’ she asked, and then added quickly, ‘and if you get it wrong, no permission!’

Jack, who’d opened his mouth automatically, froze. ‘What?’

‘You have to answer correctly!’ Tooth said, looking Jack right in the eye. The mischief from before had melted away to show a bedrock of determination underneath. ‘A test, of sorts. If you’re going to ask all of us, we’re all going to do it,’ she explained when Jack just gaped at her like a fish pulled from the water. ‘So. What’s Bunny’s favourite colour? Take your time - you only get one answer.’

Jack swallowed. ‘Wow, no pressure, huh?’ he asked weakly.

‘Final answer?’ Tooth replied, her grin returned full-force, and Jack shook his head frantically.

Aster’s favourite colour. Jack knew that seemed a very simple question on the surface, but it was _Aster._ Aster, grey and white Aster, who loved every colour he’d ever set his eyes on, so far as Jack could tell - at least, that was the impression he’d gotten when Aster had shown him the collection of First Eggs a few years past. Jack imagined there had to be _some_ colours Aster wasn’t fond of, but he sure couldn’t think of any.

The simple answer for the simple question, Jack thought, picking his cup up and staring at the cream-coloured tea within, was of course _green._ Looking at the Warren, with all its green light and earth and spotted stone - life, bursting life in every nook and cranny and climbing tree and diving root - someone who didn’t love the colour green would never live there.

It wasn’t the _right_ answer, though. Aster might love green, but it was the backdrop upon which everything else in the Warren bloomed - well. That was assuming a lot about Aster, Jack thought with no little frustration directed towards himself. Even so, in his heart, in the part of him that always had Aster on the brain and lit up in dizzying patterns at the slightest mention of his name, Jack knew it wasn’t green.

It wasn’t red, either - Aster liked red best as thin accents. Jack could understand why; he’d helped paint the eggs for four years, now. Red overpowered everything else. It was easily too much.

Jack similarly ran through the rainbow in his head, rejecting this or that colour on different grounds; most yellows were rejected out of hand, but he lingered for a moment on the almost white-gold he could remember glinting off dew drops on new leaves. Was that even a colour - _sunlight on dew?_ Jack wasn’t sure if Tooth would accept that as an answer, and so set it aside.

So too went oranges - even the pretty deep insides of a tiger lily - pinks and browns and greys. Jack was making his way through the far end of the rainbow, then paused. Remembered the past egg painting sessions, the delicately curved characters he could remember from that first year that hadn’t been repeated since, replaced with patterns and abstract shapes. He knew them better now, Sandy now signing to him almost exclusively in ever more complicated compound characters, and wished that Aster would paint them again. Maybe this time Jack would be able to pick them apart.

More importantly, though, Jack could remember what colour was most often on Aster’s brush.

And, of course, Aster would use his favourite colour for this - the duty he felt most keenly, and held in the highest regard.

‘Blue,’ Jack said, looking up at the waiting Tooth. ‘Royal blue, like - no, the word is indigo. Indigo is Aster’s favourite colour.’

Tooth was watching him, unmoving. ‘Why?’

‘Isn’t that two questions?’ Jack asked, but Tooth didn’t change her expression one bit. Jack sighed, and thought about it for a split second, before beginning to laugh. ‘Okay, here’s why. Because indigo looks like two colours - blue and purple. It’s somewhere in between, and people mistake it for one or the other all the time, but it’s its own colour. It fits precisely where it’s supposed to, even if people think it shouldn’t.’

Tooth smiled softly, and the tension in Jack’s shoulders left him all at once, slumping in relief.

‘You’re wrong about the reason,’ she said, and Jack didn’t understand the little grin her smile turned into, ‘but you’ve got the right colour. And my permission to court Bunny.’

‘Oh, thank god,’ Jack said, flopping backwards onto the cushions, and Tooth began to laugh at him, and it was okay.

  


Jack had a bit of a problem.

Well, he had two problems. The first problem was really easy to solve, if not for the anxiety that had taken up residence in his stomach. The second problem was really - really not easy to solve at all, god, he was an idiot. But it would solve itself, if he solved the first one.

The first problem was, of course, North. North, who was gearing up for Christmas, and thus completely unavailable for Jack to go petition for permission to - well, court Aster.

He was starting to hate that word, but _date_ sounded even dumber, and _marry_ just made his entire face turn bright red whenever he even thought about it, so _court_ it was.

Also, he was lying. North was busy, of course, but he was never so busy that Jack couldn’t have pulled him aside. Like the conversation with Tooth before it, Jack was putting this off because he was scared, and he knew it, and that almost made it worse.

The second problem was Aster.

Aster wasn’t dumb, not by anyone’s measurement, and so Jack was counting on him figuring out that _something_ was up. With the way Jack all but turned into a boiled lobster whenever he so much as thought of what he was doing, it wasn’t that hard. It was a question of _when,_ then, and that it hadn’t happened yet was a constant fray on his nerves.

It was just - Jack was overwhelmed, sometimes, with trying to hide it from Aster. He had to carefully not think of anything but what his hands were doing, whenever he was in the Warren; otherwise, if his thoughts strayed, the hope (treacherous, damning hope) that this would go well, that Aster might even possibly -

‘Alright,’ Aster said, paw flying up to clutch at his chest. ‘What on me good green earth is going _on?’_

Jack almost leapt like a scalded cat, but the exclamation wasn’t directed at him; Aster wasn’t even facing him at the moment, crouched over a tiny grapevine he’d transplanted after starting it from seed, some kind of extinct variety he’d managed to recreate. Jack had asked why, if he could time travel, he didn’t just go get the seeds from the source; the half hour lecture on time-causality he’d been treated to after that had been interesting, at least, but he’d be happy to not repeat the experience any time soon. Aster’s eyes had gone bright, his gestures had gotten animated, and Jack had felt so much love in his chest and weighing at his limbs that it had been a miracle he hadn’t tackled Aster then and there.

‘Is it not doing well?’ Jack asked from where he lounged on the long, straight branch of a nearby hemlock tree, trying to calm his heart from his panic.

‘It’s not the seedling,’ Aster replied with a huff. He stood up to his full height and turned, and Jack paused; there was an almighty scowl on Aster’s face, and Jack didn’t like that at all.

‘What?’ Jack asked, because he wasn’t actually sure if it was directed at him or not.

‘Something’s gone wonky,’ Aster grumped, rubbing at his chest with a tightly clenched paw. ‘With me Hope sense.’

Jack immediately sat up, concern flooding him. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, leaning forward. ‘Are you sick? Should we talk to the others?’

‘Nothing like that, Frostbite, s’alright,’ Aster said, and his face did the little fond look it got sometimes, when Jack did something or other. It didn’t seem to have a pattern, to Jack’s eyes. It happened at all sorts of different things, and sometimes Jack didn’t have to do anything, just appear in the Warren. Jack thought that, maybe, it meant Aster was… no, nope, not thinking about that. Not so near Aster himself.

Aster’s paw clenched in his chest, and Jack took to the air almost without thinking about it, the Wind curling beneath him and launching him forward.

‘No, it’s fine, I’m fine,’ Aster protested, before Jack could reach him. ‘It’s just - it’s a hope, yeah? Every hope there is on the planet, it has its own - light, it’s own meaning. Generally speaking, I don’t pay them much attention, unless one’s unusual or behaving strangely. The brighter, the more unusual. And sometimes they don’t do what they’re supposed to.’

‘Okay,’ Jack agreed, hovering a few feet away, not actually sure what Aster was talking about for a second. Unless. Oh, no.

‘There’s been a hope flickering about, and I reckon it might be one of the brightest hopes I’ve ever felt - if I could feel it long enough to suss it out,’ Aster griped. ‘It’s been on and off for months, it’s been driving me mental. Can’t figure out where or what about.’

Oh, fuck.

Jack landed on the ground quickly, hoping the descent would be sudden movement enough to hide the horror he knew had flashed across his face. Well, that answered the question of if Aster could sense it. Jack quietly thought in the back of his head that it was a good thing he’d had so many years of practice at squashing his own hopes before saying slowly, ‘It doesn’t hurt?’

‘No, more of a shock than anything,’ Aster huffed. He glared down at his own chest, then glanced to Jack, where his gaze softened. ‘Sorry for worrying ye, Frostbite. I’m fine. Just madder than a cut snake that I can’t figure it out.’

‘Give it time,’ Jack said, and wondered if it was strange that he kind of wanted to smile and frown at the same time. ‘I’m sure it’ll work out soon, right?’

Aster gave him a curious look. ‘What makes ye say that?’

‘Well, whoever it is,’ Jack replied, feeling very much like he was edging out on thin ice (and he, perhaps better than anyone else, knew how frightening that could be), ‘they’ve got to figure it out eventually. They’ll either give up on the hope or let themselves actually hope. It kind of sounds like they’re trying to not even think about it.’

Aster sat back down, a heavy look crossing his face, and he set his paw gently against the little grapevine, trailing his fingers along the newly unfurled leaves. Jack sat down near him, the Wind carrying his staff over to him from where it had been hooked over the branch he’d been laying on. It was silent a moment.

‘Why would they do that, though?’ Aster bit out at last, frustration tight in his voice even as his fingers remained gentle on the plant. Jack blinked at that; he didn’t often feel like he had good advice to give, or much of anything to give at all. Much less that someone like Aster would seek it from him. It was too late to back out now, Tooth’s permission already gained, but sometimes he thought it might be a good thing, if nothing came from this. It wasn’t like Jack did much for Aster, anyway.

This though. This he could do, and he summoned up a smile and put away his thoughts.

‘Sometimes hope doesn’t feel great, you know?’ Jack said, and Aster flicked a glance at him, something like hurt in his green eyes. Jack pressed on, hoping that his words would make sense. ‘Sometimes it hurts to hope for something, or maybe they think that it could never happen, so what’s the point? Hope is a good thing, but even good things don’t always feel that way.’

‘What about ye?’ Aster asked, turning to face Jack with a strange tilt to his ears. ‘Yer light? It ever go troppo like this?’

Jack realised, with no little surprise, that he’d never actually told anyone that he’d figured out what it was. It felt appropriate, that Aster would be first to know, Jack decided. He was the reason Jack had figured it out, after all.

‘Well, no, but I bet it might. Joy’s not always the best feeling, either,’ Jack offered, and Aster’s eyebrows rose high; Jack felt a bit of a pang when he realised Aster hadn’t actually expected him to answer. ‘Sometimes people feel guilty about being happy, like they don’t deserve it, and then they make themselves miserable to make up for it.’

‘Joy, eh?’ Aster asked. His eyes had gone soft, his mouth curved, his ears relaxed and pointed at the ground. Jack was filled up with light, when he tuned into the sense; Aster was happy. Not the bright, incandescent laughter of a trick gone well, but the effusive and quiet happiness of a Sunday afternoon. Jack had caused that, just by telling him. ‘It fits ye.’

Jack ducked his head, embarrassed. ‘Thanks,’ he said, feeling foolish as he did, then said, ‘so I mean, just let time figure it out. It always does.’

When Jack looked back up, Aster was gazing into the middle distance, still smiling, but gone wistful. ‘Aye, it does,’ he said, and there was a complex note to his voice that Jack didn’t know how to interpret, yet.

He might get the chance to learn, if - no, nope, no.

Aster’s face twisted up in discomfort. ‘Wish they’d hurry up and figure it out, though,’ he grumbled, and rubbed at his chest.

Jack, guilt like a too thick winter jacket in August, agreed.

  


So here he was. Boxing Day - and North’s preferred day for Christmas celebrations. North was finally free of his obligations for another few months, and Jack was officially out of reasons to not talk to him about this.

_Tomorrow,_ he told himself desperately as he neared the North Pole, _tomorrow I’ll bring it up_. Tonight was North’s big party, which he’d never been brave enough to actually attend so far, the event being so much bigger than just the Guardians. Winter spirits of all kinds attended, big names that Jack knew (and had long avoided), and a ton of other people: old gods and goddesses, legends and myths from cultures the world over. North was very popular, and his parties? Doubly so.

But this year, Jack was determined to actually go, the way North had been all but begging for years, even if all he did was hide up in one of the corners and talk to the other Guardians. He kind of felt like if he was going to do this thing, this… pursuing Aster, thing, he should try to be braver. Even so, it made his stomach twist in knots; this would be the first time since before the Guardian gig had landed in his lap that he’d spent ay time around people who weren’t Guardians or his believers.

The past five years had been spent avoiding other spirits with all the tenacity in Jack’s body, mostly because he imagined the vast majority of them weren’t too pleased that their favourite figurative (and sometimes literal) punching bag was too big for them to touch, now. Sure, he could say with absolute certainty that he’d never been happier than he was now - maybe not even when he had been alive - but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember the three hundred years that had come before.

It was probably a little much to ask to forget the multiple attempts to straight up kill him. Even before Pitch had spent his time whispering in people’s ears, he’d not been anyone’s favourite. There was the sea hag who’d tried to trap him in Davy Jones’ locker. The sprites. That one fire spirit guy who tried to melt him before he realised Jack wasn’t actually made of frost, then tried to imprison him in the sea beneath the Arctic ice cap. Oh, and the one time those mermaids or sirens or whatever tried to eat him by luring him under the waves. Wow, there were an awful lot of people who’d tried to drown him. He wondered morbidly if that would even work a second time.

That was all _before_ Pitch’s interference, to make Jack’s point for him. He’d not wanted to think about the spite and hateful glares he’d have to endure now.

He swallowed as he alit on a windowsill and let himself in - he wondered what it said about him that he was so opposed to using the front door that North had just added an exception for him into the wards. _Brave,_ he told himself, setting his feet on the coft carpet of the hallway. _Gotta be brave. You knew you couldn’t hide from the world forever. It’s North’s Workshop. It’s safe here._

If he floated up near one of the ceiling corners and sipped punch until he found Sandy, he thought as he padded down the hallway, it would be alright. Sandy was well loved (he was so friendly, it was no wonder), so there’d probably be a lot of people around him; but Sandy also wouldn’t put up with anything like what Jack had come to expect from other spirits. He’d never really believed the stuff people had said about Jack, anyway.

Jack wished that Sandy had maybe - reached out, before. Sandy had told him once that he wished he had, too; that he hadn’t decided it wasn’t his business, that he’d made a different, better choice. It didn’t fix it. The point wasn’t to fix it. It was to give them something to move on from. Jack liked that. It was honest and fair and to the point, just like Sandy, and it made it easier.

Jack followed the noise of the party to the source with ease, wending through the halls, and when he entered the main space from one of the high-floor balconies, he took a minute to just stare, agape.

He’d never seen so many spirits in one place in his life. It was like the one time he’d gone to Times Square personally to dust it with a gentle snow; he’d wanted to see what all the fuss about, but never bothered to go again himself, instead sending gentle flurries to do the job for him. It had been too many people, too much noise, too _much._ The whole experience had left him in a weird, uncomfortable daze for an entire month.

He couldn’t even name all the _kinds_ of spirits he saw now. Some were flying, some were walking, some were hovering in between; they filled the centre of the Workshop floor, and the five floors of balconies above that, too. Jack, who’d entered on the seventh and top floor, was relieved to find it abandoned, and set his feet on the tiles beneath him; he’d accidentally taken flight in his surprise, the Wind a gentle bobbing. She must have followed him in through the window.

This was so much more than he’d been prepared for. He wasn’t even sure he _could_ have been prepared for this. And, worst of all, he couldn’t turn back. He’d promised North he’d come.

He sighed, and bent over the balcony, scanning the crowd below for one of the others. The original plan would still work, probably. Stick close to Tooth or Sandy, and hope for the best. Nick would be hosting, and was thus out of reach; and Jack knew Aster. He wouldn’t be caught dead near a massive gathering like this. He was the only person who might be less comfortable here than even Jack. He might fake it well, Jack supposed - could picture it in his head, almost - but if he had a choice? Aster would run for the green, green hills.

Jack had thought it would be easy to pick out his brightly coloured friends from the crowd, but _everyone_ was brightly coloured tonight - everyone was dressed up in their best, and their best was apparently in the most garish shades of red and yellow and green that could be found. Must be some kind of fashion thing; Jack spared a glance at himself, and felt awkward. He didn’t exactly have more than what he wore now. The patched and worn hoodie, nicked back in the eighties to replace a jacket look-alike he’d previously stolen in the twenties, was held together by his own careful stitches and frost. His leather pants, identical to the ones he’d died in, made over and over with stolen materials and no longer having even a wisp of the original thread. And his staff, a miracle of chance and happenstance, but only wood, only ice. Way, way underdressed, apparently.

It wasn’t like he’d had any other options, and he kept it all very clean, with regular dips in clean mountain rivers (it had used to be swims in his lake, or any handy pond, but since he’d gotten his memories back… running water was at least different.) It was fine, he told himself, and it wasn’t like he was there to see anyone in particular. Maybe it was better to be a little plain right now, anyway, he told himself. Easier to hide.

He leaned over the balcony, Wind still ruffling his hair, and squinted harder. Tooth was small, sure, but Sandy was made out of _sand_. He shouldn’t be too hard to find. Jack could see that most of the party was taking place on the balconies, with the floor a little clearer, and he swept a quick glance over the floor; fewer people, but he didn’t see -

A flash of purple caught Jack’s eye, and he paused. _No way,_ he thought, and stood on his tiptoes, as if that would help him from so far away as a yeti lumbered past what he’d seen. Then, the obstruction passed, and Jack _stared._

It was Aster, he could tell by the ears, even with the long line of his grey back to Jack, but he wasn’t wearing his usual belt-bando-thing. Instead, it looked to be some kind of royal-purple sash, tied in much the same way but sleeker, more refined. It looked good. Jack pretended he hadn’t just thought that, red creeping up his face, but it was true.

Well, that was a surprise. Whatever the hell Aster was doing here, this made Jack’s job very easy. Go to Aster, wait until he was done socialising (there was a small group in front of him, but Jack couldn’t see any real details from here) then abscond to wherever they could find in the Workshop that wasn’t overrun with guests and call it a day.

Jack spared a thought towards the idea that maybe Aster was here because he wanted to be - because maybe parties were his thing - but it didn’t last, dispelled by the tense upright posture and the little twitches of ear Jack could see from here, probably full-blown flicks when viewed from nearby. Aster was uncomfortable.

‘Guess this makes me a big damn hero,’ Jack muttered, grinned to himself, and began to move.

Carefully and casually (Jack had learned a long time ago that the best way to be left alone was to look like you were headed somewhere and had no time to dawdle), Jack made his way down. He heard some whispers start, but they were all in his wake, people he’d passed; no one was paying attention to him before then, and since he wasn’t dumb enough to fly straight across the giant room, he attracted very little attention.

He landed on the floor a bit away (no one expected Jack Frost to walk, extra camouflage points), and ducking behind the columns holding up the balconies, he was relieved to find it significantly less crowded. The only people here were in tight conversation circles of their own, and didn’t seem to notice as he passed by.

Aster was still talking to the same group of people Jack had seen from above. There were four women in all, each of them nearly as tall as Aster, and radiated an imposing air that had Jack on edge from the second he came within two columns of them.

_You can do this,_ Jack thought, in hopes that it would make him able to do so, and was only a few feet away when he could finally make out their conversation.

‘- should be ashamed of yourselves,’ the person nearest Aster was saying. She was a thin, pale skinned woman in a draped and pleated gown of vermillion. Her elegantly piled hair was nearly the same colour, but her eyes were black, sclera and all.

Jack fell still, still a column away; he slid surreptitiously to his right, closer to the wall. His approach had been unnoticed by either Aster or the women in their monochromatic outfits, judging from the tilt of Aster’s ears towards his companions and their firm gazes on his face.

Companions, Jack thought, was a bit of a strong word. None of the women looked happy -  the woman in red looked downright disdainful, as a matter of fact, like Aster was an unpleasant thing on the sole of her stiletto, crimson heels. Jack bristled.

The woman in blue nodded beside the first. Her dress was puffy and full-skirted, the long curling loops of her hair the same luminous colour; like her friend in red, her eyes were shiny beetle-black. Like all the others, Jack realised, and put the pale skin and the black eyes together like two and two. Unseelie Fae. Jack shivered, remembering other fae from the court, fingers with wicked talons and dripping, jagged teeth. These four looked like higher-ranking nobles, especially if they’d been invited to North’s bash.

‘Adhelina is right,’ the woman in blue sniffed. Jack supposed the one in red must be Adhelina, then, and made a note to remember it. To remember all of them. ‘It’s an absolute _travesty,_ what you Guardians have done.’

Aster’s ears were perked forward, which Jack knew most people mistook for listening intently and was in fact the first sign that Aster was getting annoyed.

‘Have ye four gone troppo, Betryse?’ he asked flatly. ‘The Guardians haven’t done anything lately other than our jobs. Ye know, protecting children, caring for the planet; reckon we’ve been a bit more busy than ye have lately.’

The four women bristled. This time, it was the woman in orange who spoke, dressed in pants and a short cloak like a shepherd, though Jack didn’t think too many shepherds tended to do their jobs coloured like a tangerine.

‘And is luring in an innocent to do your dirty work part of your normal job description?’ she said, voice harsh and grating.

Aster’s ears twitched. ‘What?’

The final woman, her face the very picture of sympathy and kindness above her grass-green robes, placed her gloved hand on the woman in orange’s arm. ‘Now, Ursell,’ she murmured, voice sweet and kind, ‘we don’t know that it happened that way. For all we know, the poor boy was driven to them.’

‘Then they shouldn’t have taken advantage of the opportunity,’ Ursell snapped back, black eyes narrowed into slits. She was staring straight at Aster as if she wanted to throw a punch, and Aster’s ears were ticking forward by increments.

‘Ye better not be on about what I think ye’re on about,’ Aster warned. ‘Andromeda’s light, are ye four the ones behind all the goss?’

‘What have you heard, Bunnymund?’ the woman in green asked. Betryse and Adhelina had stepped nearer to her, and now it was clear as day who was the leader of their troop. She sounded curious.

Jack didn’t like how this was going, didn’t like the disdain and the anger, and he definitely didn’t like the sound of whatever they were talking about. The Guardians hadn’t done anything wrong. _Aster_ hadn’t done anything wrong.

Jack realised that if he’d approached any other way, they would have seen him coming; as it was, the four fae thought they had Aster cornered and alone. Something in him, that hid far back with the storm sense, that took glee in the harsh wind and slicing snow, sat up and took notice.

‘Ye know damn well what I’ve heard, Leuild,’ Aster snapped. ‘And it’s ridiculous, all of it. It’s mad. If ye think anyone could make Jack Frost do something he doesn’t want to, ye can go ask Pitch Black how well that worked for him.’

Jack’s breath caught, and his fingers tightened on his staff. This confrontation - and it had no other name, Jack could see that very clearly for all that it didn’t involve thrown punches and spattered blood - was about him. _Over_ him.

‘None of us think you Guardians forced the boy to do anything,’ Leuild said, hands held up placatingly. There was a calculating glitter to her eyes. ‘We’re merely concerned that, perhaps…’ she trailed off, and shook her head sadly. ‘Well, everyone _knows_ how the poor boy was treated, after all. It mustn’t have been _hard_ to convince him, in return for a little attention.’

‘Excuse me?’ Aster said, ears fully forward now and a growl to his voice.

‘Oh, you don’t have to pretend to _us,_ Bunnymund,’ Leuild said, smiling.

‘We all know the story,’ Betryse piped up, smiling as well. They all were, and though their faces had the shape of beauty, their teeth were jagged as broken glass.

‘The Blizzard of 1968 was almost a disaster,’ Adhelina simpered. ‘We can only imagine the fight that must have happened to cause that. It’s alright to be angry about it.’

‘Ye lot are still buying into that old lie?’

‘We’re sure as hell not buying that you two made up, or that it was a lie from the beginning,’ Ursell snapped. ‘Come on, have you met the kid? He’s a brat, anyone can see.’

‘And like all children,’ Leuild said softly, black eyes liquid as she gazed at Aster, ‘he is so easily taken advantage of. Even by those who claim to protect children.’

‘He’s three hundred years old, he’s not a _child,’_ Aster snarled. ‘He’s older than hal the people here! He could break any one of us in half, ye know that, right? No one _took advantage_ of him - he chose to join us.’

‘Is that what you told him?’ Adhelina demanded. ‘That you were sorry, that the Easter Blizzard didn’t happen? That he was powerful, and you needed his help?’

‘Is that why almost no one’s seen him since then?’ Betryce asked, mock innocent. ‘Are the Guardians hiding him away so he can’t tell anyone what you’ve done?’

‘Now hold on a mo’ -’

‘Adhelina, Ursell, Betryce,’ Leuild said, and all three women fell silent. ‘Bunnymund, we didn’t come to argue,’ she continued. ‘It’s alright. We came to fix the problem.’

‘Ye can rack off, then, because there is no _problem,’_ Aster snarled. ‘No one hates him, no one took advantage of him -’

Leuild’s laugh was tinkling, but off somehow, like far off, disused church bells. ‘Oh, Bunnymund. Everyone hated him,’ she said, as if that was the be all and end all. As if there was no other truth. ‘Everyone. You don’t have to lie. He was easy to hate, after all - too full of himself and his own power, interfering with other spirits’ lives. Some of us have grown to look past that, however.’ She gestured to herself and the others, smiling a gentle smile. ‘We are willing to protect him. Take him in, give him guidance. The way we all should have done when the unfortunate boy came into our world, however that came about.’ Her face twisted a bit. ‘Maybe then he would have turned out less… uncivilised.’

Jack was shaking. Ice coated his hoodie in thick, fern like swirls, and his staff was so cold it felt like frozen metal in his palm. He didn’t care. He’d never felt so - so -

‘No matter,’ Leuild finished. ‘We’ll teach the boy better.’

_Angry._

‘The _boy,’_ Jack said loudly, and Aster whirled, green eyes gone wide and horrified, the four women flinching in surprise, ‘doesn’t need to know better. The boy knows better than you, I think, because he isn’t a waste of perfectly good brain cells.’

He stalked forward, and frost spilled out of the edges of his body, leaving footprints of solid ice in his wake and snow crystallising from the moisture in the air around him. ‘I don’t need to be protected, or taught, or any of the other bullshit that’s coming out of your mouths,’ he spat, coming to a stop just ahead of Aster, between him and the people who had been harassing him, harassing _Aster._ Over _Jack._ ‘And what the fuck is this, me being taken advantage of? What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘You couldn’t have known what they were asking of you,’ Adhelina said, having the temerity to look sympathetic. Jack wanted to punch her in her creepy teeth. ‘It’s not like you had any experience with something of that magnitude.’

Jack bared his teeth back in what she could think of as a grin, if she wanted to. ‘I’d been fighting Pitch for forty years by the time I joined up with these guys, in one way or another,’ he replied, and she flinched back. ‘Once, directly. Nearly lost all my insides over it. Still survived.’

Adhelina looked a little ill.

‘Fuck off,’ he added with a snap when she went to open her mouth. ‘How dare you tell Aster to be ashamed of himself. How _dare_ you.’

‘She only meant -’ Leuild said calmingly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Jack knocked her hand aside with his staff and she yelped as ice spread up her arm, freezing the long sleeves of her robe solid and creeping ever higher.

‘How dare any of you tell the one person, the _one,_ who ever gave a shit about me, who saved my life and gave me every possible chance to say no, that he took _advantage_ of me,’ Jack raged. He took a step forward, and all four took a step back, black eyes wide and round in identical expressions of shock. ‘That he talked me into doing the right thing, or whatever the fuck you’re implying. One - you can fuck off, I chose to do the right thing myself. I’m a living, breathing person, I am capable of making my own goddamn decisions. And two? You can fuck _right_ off, because Aster would _never_ do that to someone, to _me._ And if you cared so much, if I suffered so much, then where the fuck were you?’

‘Excuse me?’ Leuild said, weakly affronted.

‘Where. The fuck. Were you?’ Jack repeated, and the ice thickened on her arm - painfully, from her wince. ‘Any of you? If you felt so bad, why didn’t you say anything? Why did you just let it happen? If you even felt bad at the time,’ Jack added, with a dawning realisation. ‘Oh, my god. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?’

He pointed at them with his staff, and all of them, Leuild worse than the others, flinched away. _‘You_ feel bad, because you found out I’m no longer everybody’s scapegoat. That I was a good person all along, that you fell for Pitch’s bullshit. Or maybe you were the kind who didn’t care even before that, who thought _oh, another fucking winter spirit, I wonder how long this one is going to last before someone kills it._ And now, you’re looking for reasons to make everyone else feel bad, too, so that you’re at least not alone. Hey, bonus points for trying to steal me from my friends and make me into something I’m not, at least you had an interesting plan.’ The ice was creeping ever higher, almost to her throat, and Jack banished it with a flick of his staff before it could start to do actual damage. She rubbed at her arm, still staring, unable to speak.

‘Jack,’ Aster said from behind him, but Jack still wanted to say something.

‘I don’t ever want to hear someone saying stuff like this again,’ he declared, looking each of them in the eyes until they looked away. ‘Seriously, fucking stop it. I wasn’t taken advantage of. I was _chosen,_ and I _chose_ to help. I did the right thing, which is better than any of you have ever managed, I bet.’

‘Jack,’ Aster repeated with some urgency.

‘And if I hear that any of you have been saying otherwise,’ Jack snarled as a parting shot, ‘I have it on good authority I can break you in half. Might have to freeze you solid first -’ he tapped his staff on the ground, and snow burst to life above the crook, making all four flinch again, ‘- but I’m good at that.’

_‘Jack!’_ Aster yelped, and North’s hand landed on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack realised that somehow, horrifically, they’d become the centre of attention for the entire party. Spirits had all but crowded in, some even peeking upside down over the balcony, all staring with wide eyes - those that had any.

‘Are these four troubling you?’ North boomed, loud enough for all to hear but asked of Jack, and squinted at the fae in question. ‘I do not recall your names on invitation list.’

All four traded distinct looks of panic.

Jack’s skin was crawling, though, and everyone was still staring, and he could feel the panic beginning to claw up his throat -

Then Aster’s paw closed around his left hand, and Jack looked to him. ‘Come on,’ Aster said, as Nick began to raise his voice in rumbling fury, and pulled Jack away.

Jack was so relieved he took to the air and let himself be towed along, tiny flurries of snow in his wake, clinging to Aster’s paw as they fled the massive room into one of the side hallways.

Two turns of the hallway away, Aster drew to a stop, and with no warning dragged Jack into a tight hug.

Jack would have been ashamed about the way he immediately fell into it, burying his face in the ruff of Aster’s chest and arms wrapped tightly around his waist, if Aster hadn’t been clinging back. It was tight, and Aster was almost curved over him, as if he was trying to wrap himself around Jack’s smaller frame.

‘Are ye alright?’ Aster demanded, pulling back and looking at Jack as if he was searching for injuries, as if the entire argument hadn’t happened in front of his eyes. ‘Tell me ye’re alright. What were ye thinking?! Ye could have - starlight and _darkshine,_ Frostbite, are ye -’

‘I’m okay!’ Jack interrupted as quickly as he could trip the words past his fumbling tongue. ‘Come on, it’s not like we got into an actual _fight,_ Aster, god.’ He was still shaking as if they had, though, and knew Aster could see it.

Aster didn’t reply, just pulled him into a rough hug again. Jack wormed nearer, for the first time in months not thinking about anything, just the fur between his fingers and the warmth of Aster’s concern washing over him.

‘What was their problem, anyway?’ Jack asked after a moment, muffled by the fur of Aster’s chest and refusing to pull away even an inch, in case the hug ended.

‘We’ve been trying to hide it from ye,’ Aster admitted, a long pause between Jack’s question and his answer. ‘Since ye became one of us, there’s a - movement. Nah, s’not the right word. Some spirits think ye’re being -’ he swallowed, and Jack could hear the noise reverberate in his chest. ‘Abused, or something. Brainwashed. Or that Pitch was just a ruse for us to take control of ye. They never have a deadset story, to give ye the drum. Looks like those four were the centre of it, though. Bunch of Unseelie troublemakers.’

Jack grit his jaw. ‘I’m going to punch them all in the teeth,’ he said furiously. ‘All of them. How could they - about _you,_ most of all!’ Jack pulled back, mourning the loss of the hug but knowing himself just well enough to know it was a good idea. Just in case his anger got out of hand again. Aster let him go more slowly than Jack thought he probably should. ‘About you!’ he repeated, the fury building up in his bones and creeping up the inside his throat like spreading frost. ‘Like you’re not the only person who cared! Like you weren’t the first person who didn’t blame me and try to kill me for something I didn’t do, you -’

He’d been right to pull away, frost spilling down onto the floor and up the wall.

‘Frostbite,’ Aster said, sounding tentative. There was another note to his voice, warm and uncertain. ‘I’m fine. They didn’t say anything we’ve not heard before - that _I’ve_ not heard before. We’ve all heard the accusations, though I’ll admit to getting it worse than the others. Reckon it’s going to die down after yer performance tonight.’

‘What? People have -’ Jack said, snapping his gaze up to Aster’s. The ice was under his skin, the anger and horror that _Aster_ of all people had been accused of hurting him, and it all had to be glowing out of his eyes.

Aster’s breath stuttered for some reason, staring at him, and Jack froze. Was he - fuck, had somehow managed to scare the unflappable Aster? ‘Ah, sorry,’ he said, ducking his head down again. ‘It’s not - I just - I’m so mad I -’

‘I know, Jack,’ Aster said, paw coming to rest on Jack’s frosted-over shoulder. ‘I’m fine.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -’

‘It’s alright, Frostbite,’ Aster said, thumb rubbing circles into Jack’s collarbone. ‘I’m just not used to - well, I reckon most people think I can fend for meself.’

Jack blurted out, horrified, ‘No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that! Of course you can take care of yourself, I -’

‘I like it,’ Aster said bluntly, and Jack shut his mouth, stunned. ‘Ye’ve been doing it all along, and I suppose I never thought about it. Ye’ve been protecting me a long time, haven’t ye? Me and me holiday, me and me duty.’ He was smiling, when Jack dared to look at him again. ‘Ye’re a good friend, Jack.’

Jack swallowed. He hadn’t thought about it that way, either, but Aster wasn’t wrong. Maybe - maybe he did actually have something to give to Aster. Maybe - he shoved the hope away, quick as he could, but Aster’s eyes had gone speculative, and, oh no, this wasn’t  - this wasn’t how it was supposed to -

‘Jack,’ Aster said, frowning now, ‘Do ye remember that hope ye and I were - ‘

‘Jack!’

Jack distinctly heard Aster mutter, ‘Oh, North, not _now,’_ but Jack had never been more relieved to hear North’s voice in his life.

‘Yeah?’ Jack asked, turning to see North having pulled up, watching them both.

‘I wanted to ask Jack question, but if you are both busy,’ North began, and Jack interrupted.

‘No, yeah, I can do that, no problem,’ Jack said, and took a step before Aster’s paw caught his arm.

‘Frostbite,’ Aster said, a frown on his face.

‘Soon, I promise,’ Jack said with a weak smile. ‘We’ll talk about the hope then, okay?’

Aster nodded, looking perturbed, but let him go. Jack hoped (and didn’t mind if Aster felt this one) that this would be the last time he would be so happy to leave Aster’s company.

  


‘So,’ North said, leading the way through the complicated halls and speaking once they were out of Aster’s earshot (a bit further than most’s). ‘I am starting to think, trouble follows you.’

Jack flinched, but before he could reply, North chuckled. ‘I used to think you looked for it, myself. Is good to know otherwise.’

Jack relaxed a tiny bit. ‘Yeah, trouble and I are old frenemies.’

‘I do not know this word,’ North said, casting a confused glance at Jack. Jack grinned; for all that he was Santa Claus, he could be really out of touch sometimes. All of the Guardians could. They were lucky Jack thought it was endearing.

‘It’s friends and enemies, smushed into one word,’ Jack explained. ‘I don’t mind a little trouble, but it’s got a way of turning into a _lot_ of trouble fast, you know?’

North chuckled, like they were sharing an excellent joke. ‘I do,’ he said, and winked his twinkling eyes at Jack. ‘I must tell you stories, my bandit king days have many good ones.’

Jack felt his eyes go wide. ‘Bandit… king? Oh, man, no one told me you used to be _cool.’_

North huffed. ‘I am still _cool,’_ he said, sounding offended, but his eyes were still twinkling, so Jack cautiously thought he might be okay.

Just to test it, Jack rolled his eyes, and was rewarded by North’s chuckle. It was a quick candy sweet burst of light when he felt for it in his chest.

‘Now, to business,’ North said, clapping his hands and leading Jack towards a set of stairs. ‘Toothiana, she has told me interesting news.’

Jack swallowed, the Joy sense fading as his nerves rose. Oh. This was what North had wanted to talk about. ‘Uh, yeah.’

‘I was not sure I believed her, at first,’ North admitted as they began to make their way up the stairs. Jack didn’t bother to remain on the ground, choosing instead to fly; North didn’t seem bothered by the steps, even though Jack could see they had a lot of flights to go. ‘It seemed too unlikely, too coincidental. Jack Frost, in love with our Bunny?’

‘Crazy, right?’ Jack joked weakly, his heart sinking.

‘Once, I would have thought so,’ North agreed. ‘Once, I didn’t know you.’

That sounded… good, Jack thought tentatively.

‘Even if I still thought such terrible things about my most recent friend, you would have just disproved them all,’ Nick said, and paused on one step to give Jack a very serious look that looked a little menacing on his face; that might have just been the revelation that he used to be a bandit king, though. ‘No one fights so hard for someone they do not love. It matters little what way they love. I am correct, however, saying you romantic love Bunny?’

‘Yeah,’ Jack said. ‘I’m - yeah, pretty, uh. Pretty far gone.’

‘Good,’ North said, sounding satisfied. ‘You have made good decision. Bunny is good man.’ Having begun walking again, he paused. ‘Well, in manner of speaking.’ He started walking once more. ‘I trust you understand what he is?’

‘He’s given me the rundown.’

‘Then you know - Bunny’s people, they only love one. One person, one planet, something like that.’

‘He mentioned,’ Jack said, wishing he didn’t sound quite so timid.

‘You understand what you are asking him? That he love you, and only you, for entire immortal existence?’

‘Yes,’ Jack answered, more firmly. ‘I’m promising the same thing.’

North gave him a sidelong look, eyes twinkling once more. ‘Oh?’

‘What, you think I would go to this much trouble for a fling?’ Jack quipped, and North chuckled.

‘You have point,’ North relented, and paused in the middle of the landing. Jack thought they were near the middle of the stairs, and wondered if they were going up into a tower, or something. North turned to face him, and his face was grave. ‘If you are intent on pursuing this course, you know what comes next.’

Jack nodded, nervous. ‘A question, right? Like Tooth’s. One answer, has to be right.’

‘Exactly,’ North said, smiling a little. ‘Is tradition. Though it is not my place, explaining that. Are you ready for question?’

‘Here?’ Jack asked, looking around the landing.

‘On schedule, my friend,’ North chuckled. ‘Needs must.’

‘Um. Okay, then,’ Jack said, and took a breath. ‘Shoot.’

‘What,’ North began, voice solemn as a eulogy, ‘is Bunny’s favourite season?’

Jack paused. Stared at North.

‘What?’ North asked after a moment. ‘I thought was good question!’

‘What Aster’s favourite _season_ is?’ Jack repeated. ‘Are you serious?’

North smiled, eyes twinkling. ‘Simple questions can be most difficult to answer,’ he said smugly. ‘Is question too difficult?’

Jack shook his head. ‘No, but I only get one shot,’ he replied. ‘Give me a second?’

‘Have as many as you need.’

Jack closed his eyes, and _thought._

Spring was the obvious answer, and for that reason, Jack rejected it immediately. _Spring_ was like _green -_ Aster loved them, of course he did, but that didn’t make them his favourite.

Winter, too, Jack could set aside - not because Aster didn’t like it, but because it was Aster’s busiest, most stressful season. Jack thought that maybe, in the future, he might get Aster to warm up to it some more, but for now, he could respect that it was too hectic to merit much fondness.

That left autumn and summer, and Jack considered them both equally. Autumn was nice, especially up north where the leaves changed colours and the winds picked up. Jack could even say with some authority that Aster liked it - more than once, he’d mentioned that he loved the colours of the season, used them in his paints and his patterns, even if it didn’t strictly make sense for Easter. Even so, in the time Jack had spent with him, ducking into the Warren and pretending that he had more of a reason than wanting to be near Aster, he’d noticed that Aster always seemed a little more… melancholy, come autumn. Like he was sad to see something beloved go. Which left…

‘Summer,’ Jack said aloud, and opened his eyes. ‘Aster’s favourite season is summer. Northern summer, anyway.’

‘Oh?’ North asked, still smiling. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘It’s just after spring,’ Jack replied, not even bothering to protest the additional question, the way he had with Tooth. ‘It’s his first chance to relax once the work of Easter’s past. He spends all winter working, the beginning of spring running Easter, and then the rest of spring cleaning up _after_ Easter. And I think autumn’s kind of like Sunday, you know? It’s still technically the off-season, but the work of winter is looming.’

‘Your answer is correct,’ North said, and Jack relaxed with a sigh of relief. ‘But your reasoning is not.’

‘Tooth said the same thing,’ Jack muttered, beginning to frown. Was he really so far off base? Those all seemed like reasonable - reasons - to him. Logical, like Aster.

‘You will understand. Perhaps you should ask Bunny, one of these days.’ North chuckled, the sound rumbling in the air. ‘You have my permission to court my dear friend. Be careful with his heart - it is old, and scarred, but still good. You two deserve one another.’

Jack’s breath caught, and he glanced away, turning red. ‘Uh. Thanks.’

‘You are welcome,’ Nick said kindly. ‘Now, come. We are not letting you put this business off, no longer! You have appointment to keep!’

‘What?’ Jack asked, startled.

‘Sandy waits! You must go to him now. Up the last of these stairs, you will find him in observatory,’ Nick said. ‘Go on, shoo! I must attend to guests. Host is busy work.’

Jack squinted at him. ‘...You just don’t want to walk up the rest of these stairs, do you?’

‘I should install elevator,’ Nick agreed shamelessly, and Jack began to laugh.

  


The observatory was stunning. Stellar, even, Jack thought with a bit of a grin, and its sole occupant fit right in.

Magic was in every facet of the observatory, in every mechanism and working; Jack could see plenty of North’s handiwork in the carvings and cosmetic details, but when he looked more closely at the brasswork, he could see Aster’s hand all over it. They must have built this together, he realised, magic and machine and all the inbetweens; probably butting heads the entire time and still building something so tall, so beautiful.

Sandy glowed golden in the precise centre of the room, beneath the wide glass ceiling. He was facing the opposite direction, head tilted up, and Jack wondered once more if maybe Sandy missed the other stars. He must. It was probably claustrophobic, confined to this planet after having zoomed this way and that through the heavens.

A curl of sand took shape over his head, up and down squiggle and parabolic centre saying _maybe._

Jack knew he hadn’t said any of that aloud, but then, Sandy had a weird knack of knowing what was on people’s minds, even when he wasn’t looking at them.

Sandy turned, and more of the characters took shape, descending lines read from left to right. Jack had thought maybe it was some kind of Chinese, at first, but when he’d looked into it, he’d realised just how different the two languages were. He still didn’t known what this was, only that now Sandy deemed him fluent enough to refuse to talk to him any other way.

_You’re a procrastinator,_ Sandy said, Jack translating in his head.

Jack grinned at him, and waved his hand, frost glinting blue bursting to life in the air. _It’s like you know me, or something,_ he replied, the grammar a little iffy but getting the message across.

Sandy smiled back, and flashed what Jack had said back to him, the corrected character order and an entirely missing character done larger than the others. Jack squinted at it until he had it memorised, then repeated it to Sandy, frost-blue mirroring sand-gold. Sandy nodded encouragingly, then said, _So. Nicholas, Toothiana, they asked you their questions?_

_Yeah,_ Jack replied, _but I don’t know why._

Sandy’s eyebrows rose, his mouth in a little round ‘o’. _They didn’t tell you?_

_I figured they were fucking with me,_ Jack confessed. Sandy scowled at the language - but really, it was his own fault for giving in to Jack’s pestering and teaching him that kind of thing.

_It’s tradition,_ Sandy finally replied, eyebrows relaxing from the frown and a smile creeping over his face again. _Bunny -_ and this wasn’t a character, never was, just an egg with some dots - _is very secretive, and kept things to himself._

_No way,_ Jack replied as dryly as he could with frost shapes in the air. _You’re kidding. Aster?_ He built the aster petal by petal, to really drive home the emphasis.

Sand puffed out of Sandy’s mouth as he laughed. _It’s tradition,_ Sandy repeated, flicking the _tradition_ character twice, _and Bunny didn’t tell us, but I already knew._

_Okay?_ Jack said, wondering where this was going.

_And I told them a while back. When we knew this was going to happen._

Jack blinked. Said aloud, ‘Wait, what?’

Sandy smiled at him, and it had such a knowing light that Jack immediately began to turn red.

_When we knew that this was going to happen,_ Sandy repeated. _When we knew you would pursue him._

Oh, god. Had he been - _How long?_ Jack asked, signing again.

_Since the first Easter after we imprisoned Kozmotis, we’ve known for sure. We’ve suspected since the final battle. Since you began to call him Aster._

Jack swallowed. His head ached a little from the heat in his cheeks. _Are you serious? But North and Tooth said -_

_It’s not a bad thing that we know, Jack,_ Sandy said, more sand puffing out as he laughed. _When someone feels that much, it’s very hard to hide. It’s been in your dreams. It’s been in his. Even if Nicholas couldn’t feel the Wonder, even if Toothiana couldn’t see it on your face, I would have known._

Jack paused. _Wait, you said -_

_So it’s time I asked you the final question,_ Sandy interrupted - something he didn’t usually do, unless Jack was asking a question he didn’t want to answer. There was no way Jack had read his words right, though, was there? _Three questions for the pursuer, three phrases for the courtship, three pieces of the joining. Pooka, partner, and planet._

The words had taken on a formal slant, the oval shapes gone perfectly round in a way Jack wasn’t used to seeing. He wondered, abruptly, if this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be written, if maybe Sandy’s shapes were more handwriting than perfectly formed printed writing. And if these words were maybe older than either of them, even with Sandy as a literal star.

Then Sandy smiled, a solar-flash grin, and Jack felt a burst of light in his chest - the mischievous joy, the prank-about-to-be-pulled. _What,_ Sandy asked, the characters forming with stone-cut precision, _is Bunny’s favourite chocolate?_

‘Are you kidding me?’ Jack demanded aloud, not even bothering to sign it - he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to get across the level of _done_ that he was with just characters.

Sandy grinned still wider and shrugged. _You’ll understand._

Jack bit his lip. Aster had said he couldn’t even eat his own chocolate, not without shifting - something about extra arms? So how could he have a favourite chocolate?

But then, Jack thought of the wistful way Aster had sighed when he’d said so, the longing look to his face. Aster _did_ love chocolate, had to. Especially with how his holiday worked, magically grown chocolate eggs, millenia of thought and care poured into the recipes.

Jack thought of each chocolate he’d had, the many Aster had pressed into his hands in the quest to find out what, precisely, Jack’s favourite was.

Jack had never thought of the right way to tell Aster that he already knew what his favourite was, had for a long time before they’d ever met. Plus, it would spoil the fun Aster so clearly had with it. Jack had figured he could be patient and let Aster figure it out; it wasn’t like he minded the free candy, each one made specifically for _him._ Another silly thing, but he loved that, loved how hard Aster tried, the light of a personal challenge like sunlight through leaves in Aster’s eyes. Loved feeling special, loved feeling worth the effort; it was more addictive than any sweet could ever be.

But never once had Aster tried the obvious route, the simplest path, and Jack suspected he knew why.

‘Aster’s favourite chocolate,’ Jack said aloud, signing as he went and not caring that the grammar got a little wonky, ‘is plain dark chocolate. Same as mine. Because sometimes things don’t need to be complex or special or whatever. They’re fine the way we - they are.’

Sandy’s smile grew so wide that his cheeks appled out, his eyes crinkled and almost disappearing from sight. The joy in him was effervescent, bubbling, and Jack held the feeling in his chest and savoured it. It wasn’t a new kind of joy, though Jack knew there were a lot of kinds he still had never felt, might never feel, might never understand; but it was a wonderful one, purehearted gladness at seeing something go right.

_Perfect,_ Sandy signed. _Perfect, Jack._

Jack smiled back.

_Now,_ Sandy added, and his face grew serious, business-like, and Jack straightened, abruptly nervous. _It’s time to teach you the phrases._

_The what?_

_The phrases for an official, permanent courtship,_ Sandy signed peacefully. _Why do you think I’ve been teaching you the characters?_

Jack jerked. _Wait - this is -_

_These are the classic Pookan characters,_ Sandy explained. _Bunny’s language._ He smiled a little sheepishly. _Though after so long, my characters look just like his. Had to remember the right circles for your question._

This explained the eggs, Jack thought numbly. That first Easter, the characters that had looked so familiar - this wasn’t _Sandy’s_ language, it was _Aster’s._ Aster’s handwriting, even.

_I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you how to speak it,_ Sandy said, face growing mournful. _I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, and Bunny’s the only other one who knows._

Jack nodded, still stunned. _So - what, I’m going to write it for him? The way I do for you?_

Sandy splashed up bright sand in an affirmative before it coalesced into characters once more. _He’ll be able to read it, and he’ll know what it means. He will understand. He doesn’t know that you’ve been doing this, but he will understand._

Jack bit his lip. _That doesn’t mean he’ll say yes,_ he signed before he lost his nerve. _That doesn’t mean that I’m what he wants._

Sandy laughed. _You’ll just have to hope, won’t you?_

Jack rolled his eyes. _Okay, teach me these things,_ he said. _I think I’ve put it off long enough._

_I think Aster’s waited long enough,_ Sandy agreed, and before Jack could ask, launched into the first line of characters.

  


It was almost dawn. Or, well, it would have been, if they weren’t at the North Pole, Jack thought with a bit of a frown. It was very, very early in the morning, at least, and the party had almost entirely dispersed. Jack didn’t mind; he’d way rather spend hours with Sandy, memorising lines of a language he was coming to know as well as his own, than spend hours at a loud party full of people he didn’t know.

That was probably weird. He didn’t care.

The Workshop was largely empty, save the occasional yeti or elf. Jack had no idea where North was, and if Tooth had been there at all, he hadn’t seen her. It would have been easy to lose even her bright green plumage amongst all the spirits, though.

Jack knew Aster remained here, though. He couldn’t say how, precisely, he knew; only that it made sense for Aster to have lingered. Jack had told him they would talk later, after all, and Aster knew Jack wouldn’t leave without finding him, same as Jack knew now that Aster wouldn’t have left before he could. It was merely a matter of finding him.

Jack contemplated asking one of the yeti nearby - Danica looked bored as she swept up debris from the party - but decided that would be like cheating. Jack could figure this out on his own.

He wandered towards the actual entrance hall, far from the window where he’d let himself in; it was a wide pavilion near an incredible glacial overhang, where spirits could arrive one way or another. Jack thought maybe there was an elevator for the ones who couldn’t fly, but wasn’t sure.

At the far end, where a carved stone railing separated the sheer drop from the safe space it enclosed, stood Aster.

Even outside, it was still comfortable here. North’s wards assured that. A quick glance around showed Jack that the pavilion was deserted, and he set down on the cool tiles, the sound of his quiet footsteps still managing to echo.

Aster’s ears swivelled around, and he turned to follow, green eyes going bright when they landed on Jack. ‘Frostbite,’ Aster called, leaning back on the carved railing, and he was smiling, and his body was one long line of grey and white and sparking green, and Jack didn’t answer with his words.

Instead, he looked at Aster, and thought about the permission he’d received, the things he’d learned, the answers he’d given. He looked at Aster, and let himself hope at last that this would go well, that Aster might even say _yes._

Aster’s ears shot forward, his eyes went wide, and he stood up straight like he’d been jabbed in the back. A paw flew up to his chest, and he stared at Jack, mouth open just a bit.

‘Jack -’ he said, voice gone a little weak, eyes lit bright, and Jack lifted his hands, staff tucked beneath an elbow.

The characters spilled into blazing blue life between them, between his palms, between himself and Aster; his magic entwined around the ice without his permission, and watched as Aster’s eyes went still impossibly wider.

_To you,_ the characters said in ovals (eggs, Jack thought in the back of his head) and dots, lines and curves, _I offer all that I am. To you, I offer all that I have been, though stories may be all that remains. To you, I offer all that I will be, and all the possible lives I could live. I offer myself to you, E. Aster Bunnymund. I offer myself._

There was silence for a moment, silence and the beat of Jack’s heart, silence and Aster’s stunned gaze.

Then Aster swallowed audibly, and Jack took in a deep breath, despair and hope warring in him, despair that maybe this was it, here was where he lost him, and hope that maybe, just maybe -

Aster closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

The words spoken then were hushed and utterly alien to Jack’s ears - as they should be, Jack thought giddily, as they maybe wouldn’t ever be again - and Jack could hear the ways it had created Aster’s voice, his manner of speech, the whistle-like noises amidst the syllables and the click of a tongue against teeth. This was the way the language was meant to be, spoken and written and whole, complete.

Jack thought of other ways, other places he might hear it, and his knees went a little weak.

He knew what the words meant, thanks to Sandy, but might have been able to guess anyway, from the way Aster’s voice trembled, the tone and emotion behind it.

_‘I accept what you are, and offer all of me in turn. I accept what has been, and offer you my histories. I accept what will be, and offer you my futures. I accept you,_ Jack Frost, _and I offer myself to you. I offer myself.’_

Aster’s eyes were open again, the blazing copper green, and Jack swallowed, was unsure if he should want to back away from something that bright, or leap forward into it.

Fingers shaking, he began to create the last phrase, the one they were meant to speak in unison, and Aster’s mouth moved over the sounds as his eyes skimmed over Jack’s characters.

_‘Us two offer ourselves, and gain more than the sum of ourselves,’_ they said together, in their own ways. ‘ _We claim what is ours and give what is ours. We are the same, in soul and in spirit, in heart and in care. We have found ourselves in ourselves. We are as we are meant to be.’_

The last sounds of Pookan faded from Aster’s lips, Jack’s frost melted in the warm air of the wards. They stared at one another, wordless.

‘Frostbite,’ Aster said at last, voice throaty and thick. ‘I… why… how did ye…’

Jack grinned, but could feel his lips trembling. ‘Come on, Bun-bun,’ Jack replied, trying for joking and only hitting fond. ‘Give your friends some credit.’

Aster’s ears perked forward. ‘Sandy,’ he said. ‘Sandy must have taught ye the phrases.’

‘He did,’ Jack agreed. ‘But Tooth and North knew what I was doing. They asked me questions. Part of the tradition, apparently.’

‘What were the questions?’

What your favourite colour was,’ Jack answered, suddenly nervous. ‘Your favourite season. Your favourite kind of chocolate.’

One of Aster’s eyebrows quirked up. ‘Ye don’t say,’ he said, sounding dry. Jack laughed a bit. ‘And what were yer answers?’

‘I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell you,’ Jack said, knowing it was teasing - knowing it was _flirting_ \- and watching as Aster’s nose twitched, his gaze sharpened, he leaned forward just a degree or two more. Knowing he was flirting, and Aster was _interested,_ was more than interested, _wanted him to._ ‘It might be against _tradition,_ after all.’

‘Wouldn’t I already know the answers, Frostbite?’

‘You can be a little clueless.’

‘Clueless?’ Aster repeated, affronted.

‘Yep,’ Jack said, smiling with what he knew to be a serene, blissed out expression. He knew it was so, because there was no way it was anything else. ‘Which is why I’ll take pity on you, Cottontail. Your favourite colour is indigo.’

Aster nodded slowly. ‘Aye, it is,’ he murmured, then smiled. ‘Me favourite season?’

‘The Northern summer,’ Jack said promptly, confidence bolstered by Aster’s reaction.

Aster’s smile grew. ‘And me favourite chocky?’

Jack grinned back, and answered, ‘The same as mine.’

Aster started, then groaned, rubbing at his brow with the palm of his paw. ‘Of course,’ he grumbled, but there was such an undercurrent of joy to his voice that Jack didn’t mind having spoiled it. ‘I should’ve known. Ye’re Jack. Ye _would_ love the one thing I’d never think to give ye.’

‘You would have eventually,’ Jack said, and took to the air while Aster’s attention was distracted, floating slowly nearer. He palmed his staff and tucked it in the crook of his arm. ‘You’re too smart not to have figured it out.’

‘Some smart I am,’ Aster muttered. ‘Couldn’t figure out yer chocky, couldn’t figure out -’ he looked up, and Jack paused. ‘The hope was _ye,’_ Aster said, sounding frustrated with himself. ‘Me own love, and I couldn’t tell it was ye.’

Jack went pink at the claim, knew he did, but as much as he would like to focus on the tight sweetness that filled his chest, that wasn’t as important.

‘I was trying not to let you know before I could do this, do it right,’ Jack explained. ‘And if I hoped too hard near you - if I hoped at all, you would have known.’

‘And ye knew what ye were doing?’ Aster asked, looking serious now. ‘Ye know what ye’ve done?’

Jack scowled. ‘Okay, rude,’ he said, and reached out - near enough at last, he flicked Aster’s nose. Aster startled, clearly not having realised how near Jack was, and reared back. ‘I knew exactly what I was doing, and I meant it,’ he said, and crossed his arms. Took a deep breath. ‘I love you.’

Aster’s eyes went soft. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘S’rude of me to have said it that way. I just wanted to be sure ye didn’t - that I -’ he stumbled over the words, and finally sighed. ‘Ye really meant it, didn’t ye?’

Jack nodded, and for a second, his heart dipped as he realised what Aster hadn’t said. ‘Yeah,’ he said, and steeled himself for the answer. ‘You didn’t just say yes because I - because it’s me, did you?’

Aster blinked at him. ‘Course I did,’ he said, and Jack held still as something in him tried to curl up and die. ‘Of course I said yes because it’s ye,’ Aster continued hastily, paws rising and setting on Jack’s shoulders, ‘it’s _ye,_ there’s no one else, I couldn’t have ever - me heart’s been set on ye for years, Jack, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.’

Jack blinked. ‘You’re _awful_ at this,’ he said after a moment, and he knew he was way too delighted, but who cared. ‘You’re _terrible,_ oh my god.’

‘Rack off,’ Aster huffed, paws warm on Jack’s shoulders.

‘No way, are you kidding? You’re so bad at this, seriously, Aster -’

Aster’s mouth was warm, the fur smooth and strange on Jack’s lips but not unpleasant, just different than anything else. It was actually kind of like the world’s softest beard, and when Aster pulled away, Jack burrowed in, burying his face beneath Aster’s jaw and wrapping himself around Aster. His staff dropped with a clatter on the tile behind them, and they both ignored it.

It felt different, now - knowing what he knew, having said what they’d said, Jack realised. Aster’s Joy was radiating out, and it was brighter than any Jack had seen so far, an old, old wish given up on but finally granted, a lost thing returned to where it belonged, relief and happiness like a bonfire in Jack’s chest.

‘I love ye, Jack Frost,’ Aster whispered. Then, his voice changed, the sound changed, and Jack could tell it was the same message, just in words that made his muscles feel like warm water and his bones want to give up the ghost. A long string of vowel-like sounds, another click, an aspirated ‘l’; it sounded like Gaelic and Arabic had melted together and become something so much bigger.

‘Tell me how to say it,’ Jack commanded, even as his fingers dug into Aster’s fur, even as they somehow managed to curl into each other more completely than they ever had.

Aster repeated the words patiently.

Jack said them back.

Aster’s breath caught, and Jack had been wrong - this was the brightest Joy he’d ever seen, his own and Aster’s together.

‘Again,’ Aster demanded.

Jack said it again. Aster said it back.

They shone together in Jack’s chest, like a supernova in reverse - like a beginning, not an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the stunning amount of gay tension has been resolved at last. thank. god


	9. Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, the Ostara Project comes to an end. I know I haven't been replying to comments lately, but I promise you, I've read every single one and I'm just so, so grateful you guys liked this. I'll try to be more on top of it now, though, heehee. Thank you for sticking with me even when it exploded, and thank you for all of your lovely thoughts, theories, concrit, and squeeing.
> 
> And a final thank you to Rin, without whom this story would never have started, and most certainly would never have finished. Cheers!

Aster had never felt so completely - anything, in his life. He’d never felt so like he was himself, so fully in the precise instant of time that made up where he was, who he was, what he was.

Jack’s fingers in the fur of his back, his face tucked against Aster’s throat and brushing against Aster’s chin, his breath warm and fast and a little uneven in Aster’s arms - Aster thought he’d never been so happy before.

‘Jack,’ he murmured. ‘Frostbite.’

‘Mm?’

‘Where do we go from here?’ he asked, words spoken into the wayward mess of Jack’s silver hair.

Jack made a little noise, a question without the shape of words. Aster loved it, loved everything, he was full up and overflowing.

‘What do ye want?’ Aster rephrased. ‘We need to talk about a lot of things, ye and I.’

‘Like what?’ Jack asked, finally pulling back a little. His eyes still gleamed magic-blue, and Aster’s breath hitched again; hours ago, they’d been the same shade, full of rage and protection and things Aster had been too afraid to try and name but made his blood heat, anyway. They’d glowed as Jack had written him the ancient phrases. They were brighter than the sky, dusk with the luminosity of an early winter evening. Jack’s eyes were going to be the death of him.

Aster swallowed. ‘I’d planned on - well, I’d thought we… reckoned we’d have more time before we got to this stage,’ Aster admitted. ‘More already sussed out.’

‘Is something wrong?’ Jack said, and those eyes were wide, worried. ‘Oh, man, did I mess something -’

Aster cut him off with a kiss; it was thoughtless, his natural instinct, but it was so  _ new,  _ too. Jack froze for an instant, then pressed his mouth back to Aster’s, shy but certain, his eyes falling closed. Aster pulled away and brushed his mouth over Jack’s cheeks, his nose, his mouth again. Jack pressed into each touch, chasing it when Aster pulled away, and each time Aster felt like something bloomed inside him, some unfurling shoot for every instant of love that rang throughout.

‘Ye didn’t mess up anything,’ Aster assured, lips moving against the skin of Jack’s cheek. ‘Ye just moved me timetable up by a few decades, is all.’

‘Decades,’ Jack repeated, sounding stunned.

‘Might’ve been centuries.’

‘You were - you felt like this, and you were going to just let it sit for centuries?’

‘Only two,’ Aster said, a bit defensive, and Jack kissed his nose.

‘I can feel you,’ Jack said, and untangled one of his hands to press it flat against his chest. ‘This light - the Joy - and you were going to put it off?’

‘I wanted to give ye time,’ Aster replied. ‘I’m… it’s a lot, or it can be, and I didn’t want to…’ he shook his head.

‘Didn’t want to what?’ Jack pressed. His fingers pet through the fur of Aster’s back, absently - Aster didn’t know if Jack knew he was doing it.

‘Didn’t want to make ye feel like ye had to,’ Aster said.

Jack stared up at him.

‘You know, it’s funny,’ he murmured at last. ‘I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to feel like you had to for  _ me.’ _

Aster couldn’t help the short, barking laugh that left him at that. ‘Reckon we’re a bit dim when it comes to each other.’

Jack smiled up at him, the expression freezing Aster in place, private and small and so clearly a smile that didn’t often see the light of day, if it ever had. A smile for Aster, no one else. ‘I’m less dim than you are,’ Jack said peacefully. ‘I confessed first.’

‘Most people just say I love ye,’ Aster pointed out, pretending a drop of dread hadn’t just plopped into the centre of his gut. ‘Instead of proposing.’

Jack went red, a flush sweeping up his neck and into his cheeks, and that was as arresting as his smile. His words were nevertheless steady. ‘I love you. It was coming eventually, right?’

Aster nodded, trying to find words.

‘Meaning you already - loved me.’

Aster nodded again.

‘Then it was already a  _ no-take-backs _ situation,’ Jack said, sounding very practical about it, though the blush was deeper now. ‘For you. And for me. I don’t think - I’m not…’ he sighed, let go of Aster with one hand to scrub at his face. ‘I’m not going to work like other people,’ he said, and there was an old frustration there, one that Aster wanted to soothe but wasn’t yet sure how. ‘I don’t think I can. I take too long to work things out, sometimes, and I don’t always know what to do with other people, and I’m going to need to be alone sometimes, and I won’t always be able to tell you why, because I don’t know why. And I know that doesn’t sound good,’ Jack added when Aster opened his mouth, closing his eyes tightly. ‘I know, okay? It sounds like a lot of work to put up with me, alright, I know. But I love you, and I think it’s part of me, I think it’s built into the way I am, and I  _ don’t _ think anything can change that. It’s like the snow and the Joy. It’s not going anywhere. So it’s not - it’s a  _ no-take-backs _ situation for me, too.’

Aster swallowed around what felt like a stone in his throat. ‘Frostbite,’ he said, and Jack opened his eyes. ‘Me love.’ Jack’s eyes went brighter. ‘As yer friend, and as now as yer partner, it is me job to tell ye that ye’re being a ratbag.’

Jack blinked. ‘What?’

‘Are ye going to tell me, right now,’ Aster asked, ‘that anything ye just said doesn’t sound like me?’

Jack opened his mouth once. Twice. ‘But you’re  _ Aster,’ _ he said. ‘That’s the way you are.’

‘And ye’re Jack,’ Aster replied flatly. ‘That’s the way  _ ye _ are.’

Jack looked a little dazed.

‘Nothing wrong with taking time to process things,’ Aster said, kissing Jack’s forehead. ‘If ye think I have a clue what to do with people who aren’t kids half the time, ye’re mad.’ He kissed Jack’s nose. ‘And if ye’ve met me, ye know I need me time, too. S’how we’re made, Frostbite.’

He laid a final kiss to Jack’s mouth, who kissed him back.

‘It doesn’t bother you?’ Jack asked as he pulled away. ‘That I’m like this? That  _ we’re _ like this, that we’re alike?’

‘Course not,’ Aster snorted. ‘I was made for ye.’ He smiled.  _ ‘We are as we are meant to be, _ right?’

He did not miss the way the light in Jack’s eyes flared a little at the old language, and resolved that whether he taught the others or not, Jack was going to learn. He knew the characters, it was just a matter of marrying the sounds to their shapes. Besides, he was Aster’s partner, now. He had as much right to the old ways as any Pooka.

‘How could you be made for  _ me?’ _ Jack asked, teasing, and Aster thought Jack must be able to feel the way Aster shivered at the tone. Jack  _ flirting _ was a dangerous, dangerous thing. ‘You were around first.’

Aster released one arm’s grip from about Jack’s waist and waved his paw with a shrug. ‘Time’s a bit more tricky than all that. I’ve got more years than ye, for certain,’ Aster admitted at Jack’s amused glance; the memory of his last lecture on time causality surfaced, and suddenly he realised the light glaze to Jack’s eyes hadn’t been boredom at all. ‘Er,’ Aster said, thrown a bit by the revelation but forcing himself to reach his original point, ‘Reckon that doesn’t mean ye weren’t a concept before I was.’

Jack was frowning now, tongue poking out from between his lips just the tiniest bit in concentration. ‘So what you’re saying is…’

‘The common philosophy went that we were made in specific ways by our - er, well, god doesn’t quite cover it, it’s not really what She was,’ Aster said, frowning himself as he stumbled through the old lessons to try and remember. ‘She was a real Pooka, not a spirit like we are. Might be. Crikey, this is hard to explain.’

‘It’s hard to understand,’ Jack muttered, sounding a bit put out by it all.

Aster sighed, but the frustration didn’t last. It couldn’t, not in the face of this. ‘No dramas, we’ll talk about it another time, is all,’ Aster said, and nuzzled Jack’s brow, kissed him until the frown smoothed away. It didn’t take long at all. ‘And I meant more practical things when I asked where to go from here.’

‘Meaning?’ Jack asked, a little breathless from the kissing, and Aster kissed him again, just for sounding like that.

‘I know ye’re on the breeze more often than not,’ he said when he’d pulled away. ‘Yer duties demand it, I know. And I’d never try to keep ye where ye don’t want to be. But the Warren could be yer home, too. If ye wanted.’

Jack stared. Aster’s heart sank.

‘I don’t mind if ye -’

‘I don’t live anywhere,’ Jack interrupted, then looked horrified with himself.

Aster felt a fair bit horrified himself. ‘What?’

‘It’s not a big deal!’ Jack blurted out, haste making the words stumble together a little. ‘It’s just, you know, I’ve got my lake, and I’m really attached to Burgess, so I just hang around there in the winter and when I have downtime -’

‘Ye have a  _ lake?’ _ Aster said, not sure which of them sounded more upset at the moment. ‘Yer lake - wait, tell me that’s not the lake where ye  _ di-’ _

At that moment there was the crash of a door swinging open, loud enough to remind Aster that there were in fact other people in the world other than Jack, and he snapped his head up, even as Jack spun in his arms to face the noise.

The wide doors that led from Nick’s entrance pavilion to the Workshop proper had flown open, and out marched an army of elves and yeti, menacingly armed with instruments and torches and all the trappings of one ripper of a display. Aster’s heart sank far enough to dig at the ground. Nick did love a spectacle.

‘Oh, my god,’ Jack said weakly. ‘Tell me that’s not for us.’

‘That’s for us,’ Aster replied, resigned. He could see Nick and the others following the parade, Tooth beaming and Sandy smiling as wide as a sunbeam. 

Jack spun in his arms again, staring up at him. ‘If I say yes, can you get us away?’ he demanded urgently, the slow procession nearing them.

Aster’s heart skipped a beat, because he  _ wanted,  _ but - ‘Ye don’t have to say yes, Frostbite.’

‘I was going to say yes, anyway,’ Jack said, rolling his eyes. ‘Can you get us away?’

Aster grinned, relief and love in equal measure filling his chest, and tapped his foot twice.

There was an outraged bellow from Nick as they dropped down, Jack’s staff tumbling after them, and Aster wasn’t sure which of them began to laugh first, but they were absolutely roaring when they hit the the dirt.

‘Oh, man, I’m can’t believe I missed his face,’ Jack managed to gasp out. ‘It must have been so  _ good  _ -’

‘It was,’ Aster confirmed through his own laughter. ‘All red and twisted up, look, see -’

He mimicked the face as best as he could, and Jack started up all over again, loud and wonderful and here to  _ stay,  _ here to be Aster’s.

The kiss was quick and the silence that fell even faster, but it didn’t sound all that quiet to Aster; his heart was going a mile a minute as it was starting to sink in, what had happened, what was happening. He could hear Jack’s too, could almost feel it through his thin chest. Jack’s arms rose and tugged Aster closer, wrapping around his neck and his shoulders.

‘I love you,’ Jack murmured, parting his lips to do so. His mouth curved against Aster’s, his eyes were blue, blue,  _ indigo,  _ and Aster kissed him again. Twice, three times, skating down to Jack’s jawline and pressing his teeth against the thin, pale skin, listening to Jack’s breath stutter and start again, faster and uneven.

‘I love  _ ye,’  _ Aster replied, paws sliding up Jack’s back and pressing them flat together,  ‘I never thought I’d  _ find _ ye, never in a billion years -’ Another kiss, to the Adam’s apple of Jack’s throat, and Jack made a soft sound that Aster was going to remember for the rest of his life, he knew it.  _ ‘I love you,’ _ Aster murmured, Pookan as familiar on his tongue as if he’d been speaking nothing else his entire life, and Jack’s fingers tightened in his fur.

‘So, living here,’ Jack said, his voice light and airy and utterly unconvincing. Aster wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but a new hope was flickering to life from his direction, too new for Aster to immediately suss out. ‘Do I get my own room, or do I get to share yours?’

Aster froze. Lifted his head. Jack looked back at him with his blue indigo blue eyes, light still behind them, still shining through them, and Aster swallowed.

‘Ye can have yer own space, if ye want,’ he said slowly. ‘But if ye wouldn’t mind, I would prefer ye’d share me bed, at least.’

The hope flared up, and so did the light. ‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ Jack murmured. Aster kissed him for that, for a hundred thousand reasons, a hundred million.

‘Would ye like to -’

‘Right now,’ Jack interrupted, but Aster didn’t mind. Jack must have known what he was asking, judging from the way he wriggled closer. One of his thighs ended up between Aster’s, and Aster’s ears snapped forward; he could feel Jack half-hard through his pants. ‘If you’d like,’ Jack added, a little more tentative, and Aster realised that he had been looking for something similar, confused now that he hadn’t found it.

‘Ah,’ Aster hedged, ears flattening a little. ‘Benefits of being a shifter, mate. I don’t have to - er, wear them, all the time. It’ll just take a mo’ to get back.’

‘Wait,’ Jack said, tilting his head. ‘You just - shift it away?’

‘When I don’t need it, yeah,’ Aster muttered, a little embarrassed. ‘Makes running easier, not to mention fighting. One less target to aim for, in me opinion.’

Jack suddenly grinned. ‘You  _ would _ do that,’ he laughed. ‘You’re too practical, oh my god.’

‘Nothing wrong with practical,’ Aster argued. His ears twitched up, now that he was trying not to smile himself.

‘It’s not very practical right  _ now,  _ is it?’ Jack asked, and Aster had to admit that Jack had a point.

‘Reckon I might have it around a little more often from now on,’ Aster said, still gauging, still feeling out where Jack was. ‘It - won’t look like yours, though.’

‘Didn’t think it would,’ Jack said with a shrug, no visible discomfort with the idea on his face. ‘The rest of you doesn’t.’

‘It could.’

That paused Jack. ‘What?’

‘I could - look human, if ye wanted,’ Aster said, swallowing. ‘If ye’re not…’ 

Jack was looking at him like he’d gone around the bend, though, and the words faded in Aster’s throat.

‘That wouldn’t be  _ you,  _ though,’ Jack pointed out. Then frowned. ‘This is, uh, you though. Right?’

‘Yes,’ Aster said firmly. ‘This is me natural shape.’

‘Then this is the one I want,’ Jack said. His smile, returned to his face, became a little - different. Aster didn’t know the word at the moment for what it looked like, the syllables hovering on the tip of his tongue, but he  _ did _ know that he liked it. ‘Maybe someday, might be fun. But I’m happy with  _ this _ you, promise.’

_ Interested.  _ The word was  _ interested. _ It made Aster’s throat go dry, and his blood heat, like it wanted to rush south but had nowhere to go. ‘It could be,’ Aster said, and sounded very even to his own ears. Miracle, that. ‘Are ye sure -’

‘I did say right now, didn’t I?’

Aster nodded. ‘Reckon we should get going, then.’

They separated, a difficult thing to do when all Aster wanted was to keep Jack near, and Jack bit his lip.

‘Can you do the thing? The - fast thing.’

‘The speed modification?’ Aster asked, and Jack’s face lit up, cutting off the joking words about eagerness that had been ready to roll off Aster’s tongue.

‘Yeah, that one,’ he said, and now his smile was playful, excited. It was happiness for happiness’ sake. Aster would get to spend the rest of his life learning every subtle twist and turn of this man’s expression, and could think of no sweeter future. ‘It’s fun.’

Aster smiled back. ‘It is, at that.’ He reached out with his magic, then paused; he’d forgotten one of the biggest consequences of what Jack had done. Jack had already been welcome in the wards, Aster’s heart making a space for him and granting him access to whatever he wished (he’d never bothered to push it, wonderfully respectful, but he  _ could _ have). Now, though, Jack had slotted into place, and that rather changed everything.

‘What?’ Jack asked; ah. He’d been paused long enough to catch attention, then.

‘Reckon ye might want to do it yerself, is all,’ Aster said, looking over at Jack.

No matter what he said, Jack could be incredibly quick on the uptake, and he jerked, as if struck by lightning. ‘Wait,’ he said, and Aster knew he was hyper-aware of every fluctuation in Jack’s hope,  _ too  _ aware, and didn’t care. The light was wonderful, good, each one satisfied one after the other - and by the seven solar winds, Aster would do his best to see each hope satisfied, so long as they lived. ‘I can’t - it’s  _ yours.’ _

‘Ours, now,’ Aster corrected. ‘As much yers as mine. When I said the Warren could be yer home, I meant it. It’s yers, too.’

Jack’s face wavered, too many layers of emotion flickering over his face, but Aster could pick out a few - happiness, anxiety, a slow dawning wonder Nick had to be able to feel from here, and the hope Aster could feel for himself.

‘Can you show me?’ Jack asked at last.

Aster reached out and took Jack’s hand, weaving their fingers together (and who could have guessed how easily four fingers could fit with five? Jack’s hand was small but still managed to encompass Aster’s, managed to cradle the whole of it.) ‘Here,’ he said, and hoping the sensation would be enough to impart the knowledge, his magic twisted. The modification activated, and then he deactivated it quickly, before it could take effect.

Aster looked over, tilting his ears in Jack’s direction. Jack’s brow was furrowed up in concentration, his eyes screwed closed; then with his free hand reached out for his staff. A breeze sprang up, tossing it neatly into Jack’s grip, and his eyes popped back open. ‘Sorry, fine stuff like this is easier with it,’ Jack said, directing an apologetic glance towards Aster.

Aster waved his free paw. ‘She’s apples, Frostbite,’ he said. ‘Nothing wrong with the fact that yer magic is different from most. Ye’re different from most, me love.’

Jack’s smile was blinding, and he tugged Aster down by his paw, rising in the air a bit to close the height gap and plant a gentle kiss to Aster’s mouth. ‘Okay, hold on,’ he said, and there was a note of mischief to his voice. ‘I think I’ve got it.’

He swiped the staff down, performing a little corkscrew motion with the crook as he went, and Aster felt his modification take hold.

Only, it wasn’t precisely  _ his _ modification.

He began to run, releasing Jack’s hand as Jack leapt up with a whoop, and immediately realised it was different when he almost tripped over a boulder he’d been familiar with for centuries. It was  _ faster,  _ somehow, faster than Aster had ever been able to devise, and a fierce delight flared within him as he realised that Jack had done it. He’d never been able to figure it out, but within a few seconds, Jack had accomplished something Aster hadn’t managed in several centuries’ worth of work. Pride joined the delight, and Aster was smiling so hard it hurt.

He always had loved a challenge.

‘It’s good, huh?’ Jack called through the roar of the slipstream as the feeling burst to life, and he sounded so satisfied it made Aster chuckle.

‘How did ye do it?’ Aster called back, having concentrate for the first time in a very long time on where he landed. His strides were taking him further than he was used to, and the new calculations of angles, of force and momentum, almost drowned out Jack’s response.

‘The Wind might have helped,’ Jack answered, and whooped as he shot towards a slim hole in a tangle of roots. Aster’s thought of  _ Of course, if he’s added wind magic to the root configuration - why didn’t I think of that, the nature of the modification was all wrong  _ was interrupted by fear. His heart stopped a moment, certain it was too small a space, but then Jack was through and he could breathe again. The look of delight on Jack’s face was worth it, the adrenaline in Aster’s veins and the shaky landing after.

They burst out into the Warren at last, the modification ending as they were spat out, and Jack whooped again, spinning to a stop midair. Aster had seen a figure skater once on the human telly, as he’d been passing by and fossicking for a new gooseberry hybrid; the principle was the same, only more graceful without the the constraint of gravity.

Aster didn’t waste time on thought. He leapt up and tackled him with the last momentum of his sprint.

Jack shouted in surprise, but it turned into a laugh as they descended in a curve, and then Jack’s wind - Wind - caught them both, lowering them to the ground. Jack was pinned beneath Aster’s weight, and there was hope in him, and Aster knew what it was.

‘Ye’re mad,’ Aster said, ‘I love ye,’ and kissed Jack until they were both gasping.

It was a quick shift, no more than a few seconds, but as soon as he had all of his bits in order he groaned; the heat in his blood finally had a direction in which to rush, and the feeling was dizzying.

‘Whoa,’ Jack breathed, eyes going wide. His fingers dug in, where before they’d been loosely entangled in the long fur of Aster’s shoulders, and Aster groaned again when Jack arched up, the lithe line of his body pressed to his and the pressure on his newly reacquired cock like sunlight. ‘Okay,’ Jack said, his voice gone ragged, and Aster interrupted him with a kiss. ‘Okay, okay,’ he repeated when they’d broken apart again. ‘Come on, you said bed, I want a bed.’

The idea of having to get up and separate again, just to walk to Aster’s bed, was unbearable. Aster chose instead to kiss Jack’s throat again, pressing his teeth to the skin, dragging his tongue up the cord of his muscles to Jack’s earlobe.

_ ‘Do we have to?’  _ Aster asked into Jack’s ear, knowing Jack wouldn’t understand the words, but might understand the sentiment.

He might have also been betting on the language having the effect he thought he had seen before.

The triumph was sweet when Jack jerked beneath him, hips snapping up and straining against Aster’s. ‘Okay, fine, here is good,’ Jack breathed. ‘Here is great, actually, perfect, fantastic, but next time, Aster, when I say bed, don’t  _ cheat.’ _

Aster spare a thought towards guilt, but it was quickly dispelled by how Jack’s fingers were scrabbling at the old sash Aster had worn to the party, trying to pick it apart.

‘You’re ridiculous,’ Jack was muttering. ‘What the hell, how -’

‘What do ye mean?’

‘Why are you wearing this, how the hell does this thing even tie!’ Jack burst out, frustrated with the sash. ‘Like, it looks good - wow, it looks good -’ and for a second Jack’s scramble to remove it melted into a caress of Aster’s shoulder, ‘but why were you even  _ at _ that party, you have to hate parties -’

‘I do,’ Aster assured him, reaching back and tugging the ends of the sash free and helping Jack unwind it. He could work on Jack’s clothes in a moment. ‘I went because Nick said  _ ye _ were, and I wasn’t going to let ye walk into that lion’s den alone.’

Jack paused, then began to attack the sash more fiercely, muttering as he went, ‘Oh, of course, it had to be a  _ noble _ reason, of  _ course.’ _

He couldn’t have sounded more frustrated if he’d tried, but Aster just smiled, and as soon as the last loop was free of his head he bent, kissing Jack soundly and not even bothering to cast the sash off his shoulder. ‘Ye would have been fine,’ he said, pulling back and beginning to help Jack out of his sweatshirt. ‘Reckon I was the one in need of a rescue. Like usual when it comes to ye.’

Jack frowned. ‘I was going to hide with Sandy, anyway,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t - I wouldn’t have - you know, argued like that. If you weren’t there.’ He looked up at Aster, and the expression he wore was so serious that it completely negated the ridiculous way he was half in and half out of his own shirt, one arm free and the bottom hem bunched around his neck. ‘I wouldn’t have been fine. I don’t do that kind of thing for me - I just laugh, let it go. As best as I can.’ He swallowed, the fabric moving over his throat. ‘It was for you. I’m sorry, I know -’

Aster interrupted him by pulling his sweatshirt free, a little rough and knowing it. He was upon Jack as soon as his head was free from the fabric, hair mussed and expression confused, a kiss that pressed a bit harder than it ought. He knew they had to look a mess - his unravelled sash still tossed over one shoulder, Jack’s right arm still trapped in his sweatshirt - and didn’t care.

‘Ye have no idea what ye look like,’ Aster said, hasty as he pulled away, needing to get this out before Jack apologised again. ‘When ye’re angry, when ye’re protecting something - ye don’t understand the way ye look, me love. Ye have nothing to be sorry for. There’s no one else I’d rather have to get me out of a tight spot.’

Jack’s face was doing it again, the light and the love and the protectiveness that made Aster feel like he was at the centre of too much heat - only now with his bits all in their proper places, it made his body move, rock down into the cradle of Jack’s hips, against him.

Jack rolled them, splayed out over Aster’s hips instead of kneeling between his thighs, as Aster had been. The pressure was good, was wonderful, and Jack’s hands were flying over the laces of his own pants.

That was an endeavour Aster was happy to help with, and with a bit more manoeuvering they lay at last together, bare and rocking together, helpless with it.

‘Is this okay?’ Jack asked, breath uneven, a bit too slow on the words to be entirely in control. ‘I don’t know - well, I do know how, but I’ve never -’

‘This is fine, Frostbite,’ Aster responded when he could make himself remember words in a language Jack could understand, paws having found their natural place at Jack’s waist and loathe to let it go. He rocked up and Jack rolled down, they moved together, and Aster sat up, rested his chin on Jack’s shoulder.

_ ‘I love you,’ _ he murmured into Jack’s ear, and Jack’s rhythm stuttered.  _ ‘I love you, and you’re mine, and this is where we belong -’ _

‘Aster -’ Jack said weakly, body moving faster.

_ ‘Say it,’ _ Aster replied, paws flat to Jack’s hips and holding him near as he ground up, blood in his ears and his heart in his throat.  _ ‘Say you love me, please -’ _

_‘I love you,’_ Jack gasped out, the words a little unsure in his voice but the meaning rocksteady.

_ ‘Look at me,’ _ Aster said, then repeated in English, ‘Look at me,  _ look at me.’ _

At this angle, Jack was above him, perched on his hips and trembling, and when his blue gaze landed on Aster’s, magic-bright and lust-glazed, he was finished.

He held Jack’s hips in place and Jack bucked against his hold, his vision greyed out as he came, and the heated splash had Jack moaning. His fingers yanked at Aster’s fur and he arched back, returning the favour.

Aster rested his brow against Jack’s chest, and slowly, Jack’s grip loosened. His hands began to pet at Aster’s ears, and Aster groaned softly as his body made a valiant attempt to get started again. It would be a while before it could, but Aster appreciated the effort.

_ ‘I love you,’ _ Jack murmured.

‘I love ye, too,’ Aster replied in English.

They relaxed back onto the ground by increments, until they were a lazy tangle in the heavy sunlight; it could have gotten too warm very easily, but Jack’s Wind was gamboling nearby, and kept them comfortable.

‘Is it another time?’ Jack asked when some time had past, and Aster’s ears twitched. ‘I mean, about the - the thing, the made for me, thing.’

Aster’s ears twitched again, about the only movement he felt capable of at the moment. ‘That curious?’

‘About you? Always,’ Jack replied, and kissed Aster’s nose. ‘Plus, I’m really bad about this kind of thing. I can’t let stuff go. I want to understand.’

Aster could understand that, dragged around by that urge himself far too often. ‘Well, er, I should explain Anemone first.’

‘Who?’

‘Very long story short,’ Aster said, frowning, ‘Not long after the galaxies were first born, there was a Pookan doe who realised the universe was better off if there were people to care for it, yeah? But no one could live that long, to take care of it the way it deserved. So She used the First Light to essentially trade her life for the rest of us. She died so that no Pooka would die of age. So long as we were careful and don’t cark it some other way, we would continue on.’

‘Like Jesus?’

‘Er, sort of,’ Aster said, frowning. ‘Only - that was what, sins? Reckon I don’t know too much about it, never met the bloke meself.’

‘That’s fair,’ Jack replied, and pillowed his head on his arms, crossed on Aster’s chest.

‘We have Her writings, as well, and the First Light itself carries the memory of Her. She’s not a god, or a spirit - She’s dead, and the absolute kind. But She also influenced the First Light, which began to think for itself.’

‘The First Light?’

‘Another very long story,’ Aster sighed, thinking of the room where it rested. ‘That one can wait for another time. Second long story short, it’s light from the very first instant of Time. And as it began to think, with Anemone’s wish still ringing, it made a very delicate change to the timeline. Every Pooka that came after, each of us, our - soul, maybe, I’m not sure the right word in this language, me love - we were made for our partner.’ A little bitter twinge slid through him. ‘Ye could still cark it before ye met them, of course, and that happened from time to time. But even if they didn’t exist yet, ye were meant for someone.’

‘So it was a guarantee?’

‘No.’

Jack tilted his head.

‘There were exceptions to every rule. Some people weren’t made for anyone - not because they were worse off, but because they were made for something else. Some of them were made for a planet, or for a cause.’

Aster swallowed.

‘And after the Fearling War, after being on Earth so long, I - I thought maybe I was one of ‘em. Meant for this planet. Then, for this job, when it rolled around.’

Jack’s eyes widened. ‘To be a Guardian.’

‘Aye. I didn’t think there was anyone left that I - well, like I said. This job takes up a lot of time, ye know. Didn’t really think about it, after that. Then,’ and there were no better words Aster knew, in any language he spoke, ‘then there was ye.’

Jack kissed him then, soft and kind, kissed his nose, his chin, nuzzled into his fur. ‘I’m glad you weren’t just meant to be a Guardian, or take care of the world,’ he whispered. ‘I’m glad you were made for me.’

‘Me, too,’ Aster murmured back.

‘And, uh - I mean,’ Jack said into his fur, ‘I’m kind of. Already dead. And I don’t age. So I don’t think - I mean, I’m here to stay. I’m not going anywhere.’

Aster started, and Jack pulled back.

‘You didn’t say it,’ he said, sombre, ‘but that had to have happened, right? Most people aren’t immortal. There had to be people who lost their loves.’

Aster nodded, at a loss for words.

Jack nodded back, determination drawing his brows down, and lifted his hands. Frost curled between them, taking solid shape in the air, and Aster read (his own eyebrows creeping up):

_ Then I’m here. I’m here with you, and I’ll be here with you until there’s no ‘here’ left to be. _

They melted away into dew in the heat of the Warren, and misted down onto Aster’s already mussed fur.

_ ‘I love you,’ _ Jack said, and smiled. ‘So let’s go find your bed, huh? You can teach me how to say some other words.’

Aster didn’t bother to respond, getting to his feet and scooping Jack up into his arms in one movement. Jack’s blue eyes sparked, and Aster could feel the blood-heat returning already.

‘I can think of some good ones to start with,’ Aster agreed, and Jack’s laughter floated behind them as he began to march towards their new bed, and the new life behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, one last note:
> 
> My notes on the Pookan language will be up on my art blog in the next few days, if you want to see what I envisioned it looking like, at yesthisisproser.tumblr.com
> 
> ...did I really create an entire conlang for this one fanfic, down to a sample word bank?
> 
> Well, no. I haven't finished the word bank yet. ;D


End file.
